Cancerous
by Creatoriginsane
Summary: CHAPTER 21: "She's making him waste his powers on purpose, isn't she?" Where the unwilling, the unknown, and the unseen are revealed to have more in common that what was thought. / Multi-chap, OCs, ambiguity over anything. Read and review?
1. blood money

**Cancerous**

A/N: Now here's something _The Pub Writer_ would write about..

Disclaimer: K Project/Project K/K is awesome and I do not own it.

* * *

"I want to join Homura."

She might as well have exclaimed that upon her entry into the establishment. She had swung the door with enough force to break it off its hinges. She had a mixed look of frustration, rage, and desperation in her face as she panted, making her way slowly into the room. She wore a pair of yellow leopard-print harem pants, a neon green tank top over a purple tube top, a pair of yellow sneakers, and a pair of hot pink-framed shades covering her eyes.

Izumo thinks that she's a walking disaster as he eyes her distastefully. He might burst out laughing should she actually be considering—

"I need a drink." She murmurs as she takes a seat two feet away from him. So she thinks of this as a normal pub, huh?

He wipes the inside of a beer glass. "Do you know what this place is? You aren't supposed to be here."

She looks up and meets his indifferent gaze. "This is a pub, isn't it? People get drinks here, don't they?"

"Tsk-tsk, I'm afraid you're mistaken. This is Homura."

She scoffs before muttering to herself, "Homura bastards taking my kill as their own… I should've known."

"Pardon—"

She stared at him stonily. "Get me a drink, bartender, vodka on the rocks."

Who does this woman think she is!? He tries reasoning with her, "Miss, I don't think you understand—"

She pulls a pistol to his face and says in a harsh bite, "What don't I understand? I'm just asking for a drink." She pulls out a wad of bills with her other hand and drops it in front of him. "I'm able to pay for it and more, so what else is there to understand?"

He sighs. "Miss, I think you don't understand—" his hand shoots up and twists her arm onto the bar counter, her face following next. He presses her cheek to her shoulder. He whispers along her ear, "—the mechanics of my bar."

She is visibly struggling against his grip.

He continues. "I don't just accept people who enter without appointment or who aren't part of Homura, but seldom do I cater to the former. So if you'd like a drink," He twists her arm further, "go find another bar."

He releases her and she retaliates quickly with a fist aimed for his jaw. He stops it and grasps it tightly.

He reaches for his cigarette on the ashtray. "You're a tough drunkard, aren't you?" He takes a long smoke, and exhales. "There are lots of pubs you can have bar fights in, but not here."

She finally detaches her hand from his. "I'm not looking for a fight, bartender."

He takes the bundle of paper bills on the counter. "Where did you get this?"

She stands up, massaging her sore arm. "Blood money, it's yours if you want it."

It's almost a regular thing, murders. He takes a smoke and then, "You murdered someone?"

"No." Not yet, she wants to add. "—but that's worth ten thousand."

"Then why do you have it?"

"I know things." She smirks, "Even things about the city underground. You know, smuggled goods, identity theft, cold-case murders, things caught on tape, people gone missing…" Her last few thoughts caught his ear.

"You're lying."

"I'd be drunk if I wasn't, then again _in vino veritas_."

He shrugs, trying her. "How many shots would it take?"

"Thirteen to be exact."

"You're joking."

"That's what they said last time, but hey–thirteenth shot down and the truth spilled out of my mouth like vomit in a Sunday hangover."

"You're just out to get free drinks."

She gasps wryly, "Oh, how you foiled my plan! What else can a girl do to get some alcohol in her system?" She coughs, reverting to her intimidating look, "It's either free drinks or money, and the latter causes some—" She smirks, "—accidents if not met in full."

"You're talking crazy, woman."

"That's what they said before I gave them files only the government could have."

He takes a long, soothing smoke. "Where's the proof?"

She stops short. "You haven't heard of me before? Underground hacker extraordinaire?"

He shakes his head.

She is almost in disbelief. "Last year's government hacker? The shipment system breakdown six months ago? The credit card identity theft from four months before? The military surveillance exploit two months past? Nothing?"

"It's impossible to think of them as something committed by a teenager."

She bites her lips into a line. "I'm twenty-three."

"Even so. You must be high on drugs right now." He takes a long smoke.

She starts accusing him, "You've smoked too much, how many drags have you taken? A pack already? Then there must be something wrong with your head, brain damage perhaps. You should see a doctor."

He could smell the stench of her breath. "The alcohol in your system has made your blood pressure too high, blood movement too slow, and have your critical thinking dissipate into something like a three-year-old child's."

She leans back and stands proudly. She starts a mocking tone, "So this is Homura. I can't say that I'm impressed at all. Instead of giving in or giving up a proposition, they just lead people on. Disappointing." She turns her back to him and starts walking away.

He calls after her form. "You weren't welcome here in the first place."

The door closes. He notices that she's left the wad of cash on the counter and that her pistol is mysteriously gone. He starts counting the paper bills—he drops the roll into the sink and presses his cigarette to it.

He watches a flame emerge from the cigarette to devour the roll of printed-on paper. "It's a fake." Much like the rest of her, he adds.

* * *

A/N: Well, I'm pretty much jumping from one bandwagon to the other. Anyway, this is done and I think I'll add a few more chapters to this one. Read and review?


	2. mug shot

Cancerous

A/N: Well, it's 1:30am and I have a retreat tomorrow…

* * *

"I'm willing to bargain with you."

At least she's said something once she's swung the door open too wide, but she had come at the wrong time—when most of Homura was crowding the bar. They stared at her and she stared back at them.

"Well shit—"

"Who're you?"

"No one of importance, kid." She struts confidently, as if without fear of death.

"Why're you here?" The same beanie-wearing, red-headed boy incredulously asked her.

She snaps her fingers, ignoring him, "Drink please, bartender. Gin and cola."

Izumo stared at the back of her head. Who is this woman? What's her purpose here?

She snaps her fingers again, "Gin and cola or this whole place'll blow."

"Hey, answer me!" She looked to her left, the beanie-wearing boy looked frustrated, his cheeks flushed.

She shrugs. "Might as well." She dropped the thick packet onto the bar counter. She started to walk away, "That's not a bomb nor is it anything dangerous, look through them and contact me if you'd ever be needing information."

"Oi—!"

She says over her shoulder when she's halfway through the door. "And kid, stop being annoying. Girls don't like annoying." She steps out, but stops and laughs, "As if girls would like you."

* * *

Yata spoke casually, albeit sounding and looking obviously annoyed. "I'd never thought of you getting a girlfriend, Kusanagi-san."

Izumo wrinkled his brow, "She's not."

"Then what's she here for then?"

"She's merely a drunkard looking a place to spend blood money."

"She's a murderer? What if Mikoto-san finds out and—"

"He won't. If he did, then he won't care, it's not like she's going to do something big and potentially dangerous."

Yata pointed at the package on the table. "Then what's that? Your first anniversary gift?"

Izumo glanced at the brown-paper package. "It's just a package."

He shrugged. "Well she left it."

Izumo takes it with one hand and pries it open with another. "It's just—"

And at that moment, printed pictures burst out from his hand and onto the counter.

"What's all this—" Stills from videos, newspaper clippings, magazine shots, photos from unknown camera sources, ones posted online—it's as if someone took the time and effort to actually search for them.

Yata looks through most photos, he's just seeing some of them for the first time. "Who would—"

Izumo lights a cigarette. "Mayonaka Akari."

"What?"

"That's her name."

"Oh. Who's she?"

Izumo tosses her picture to Yata. "She's twenty-three, a heavy drinker, frequents most bars downtown, the so-called DJ Mayonaka of Club Nights, she's a walking disaster."

Yata takes a long look at her. No, she isn't anything special, compared to most girls. He admits. "She looks—crazy."

Izumo continues. "She's a hacker, a virtual terrorist. She said she's logged onto government and military resources numerous times. She's got the world at her fingertips, she said."

Yata shrugs, placing her picture on the counter. "She doesn't look it."

Izumo inhales the smoke bitterly. "She's a liar, a fraud, some drunkard looking for a barfight."

"Then where'd she get all these?"

Izumo's phone rings, it's a call from an unknown number. He decides to answer it.

"Pictures and video stills aren't the only things I can get from you, Homura."

"Who's this?"

"I've got the entire world under my fingers."

"Look, if this is some prank call—"

"Don't you dare call me liar, bartender."

He cut off the call before the laugh was audible enough to be heard by Yata.

Yata smirked. "Lemme guess."

"No."

"You don't just put down calls from ladies, Kusanagi-san."

"She isn't a lady."

Izumo watches Yata skate off.

Yet, he still wonders how she could acquire that much amount of information on them at such a short time.

She even got his number.

* * *

_She clicks her laptop shut and sighs, "The wonders of simple wires and antennas."_

* * *

A/N: Read and review?


	3. wolf ticket

**Cancerous**

A/N: Well, several things happened, yeah, and several events took place, yeaaaah. Anyway—

I did a rewrite of what was supposedly the third chapter (and also the entire story).

* * *

"I need a drink."

She did say that, loudly, like she was welcome here—technically she still is. There wasn't a warning or an order from any of them, not yet.

So she ignores the lot of them, saunters up the bar, takes a seat, and calls, "Oi, bartender, gimme a reverse screwdriver."

Izumo didn't turn to look at her. "Excuse me?"

"Three parts vodka, one part orange. I need it. Now."

He cranes his head a little to glance at her state, he thinks she's looking a complete mess right now.

He's right.

There were a few scratches on her face and arms, something like a bloodstain on her shirt, her hair disheveled and sticking to her forehead, her eyes teary, and a corner of her lips tugged upwards.

She notices his eyes. "Oi. Stop your ogling and get me that drink already."

He goes to mix her custom drink. "Have an ounce of respect for me at least, woman."

"I've been scarred and I've been running for the past morning, the least you can do for me is to give me that drink. Now."

And he does. She stares down at it for a moment as if it'll explode right before her, before downing it in one steady gulp.

He asks as she sets the glass a little too forcefully on his beloved bar. "So, why were you running?"

"Because I needed to. Give me another."

He bites his lip at her quick statement, and goes to make her second one.

"On second thought, give me a pitcher."

He almost chokes at her request, but goes ahead.

The moment he's set her refilled glass and the pitcher of "reverse screwdriver" she's requested onto the bar, she goes on. "I needed to run because I was being chased." She takes a sip, and he immediately takes her for an idiot lacking common sense.

"I was being chased because I did something wrong." She takes another sip.

"That wrong thing, let's say it's morally and legally wrong." She takes another, and his thoughts of her as an idiot seem to be facts already.

"It's morally wrong because it's been shoved down our throats," She flails her arms, heightening the pitch of her voice "Don't do it, don't do it!" before taking another sip.

He stops her before she could set the glass down, "Cut the chase, what happened to you?"

She finishes her second glass. "Lots of things."

He takes her stupidity as her own version of stubbornness. "Like what?"

"Oh, like, this—" She pulls out her gun from before and presses it to his forehead, "Where's the cash I gave you before?"

He shrugs, slapping her hand down to the counter. "Burned. They were fake."

She retaliates, a punch aimed at his jaw, he stops it with his wrist. "They weren't! Well, they were but—those were drugs!"

Now he remembers a particularly bad scent that was released when he burned them. He lets go of her, but confiscates her gun. "Drugs?"

"Amphetamine crystals, melted and solidified, to be combined with methyl."

"Why would you leave them here?"

"I was thinking that a group like HOMURA would understand the—" She stops. "—needs and the ways of people like you."

"We don't do drugs."

She deadpanned. "Oh, well, that's a disappointment." She shrugs, "And I thought HOMURA was the most-feared gang in all of Shizume city, turns out you guys are all bark and no bone."

He thinks it's a pun on their motto. "You're a drug carrier."

"More of a worker than anything, really. I've dealt with drugs, trafficking, prostitution, smuggling, surveillance hacks, money laundering, all of the underground stuff."

"Why are you here, anyway?"

"I needed a drink."

He stared at her careless expression. "No, really, why."

"Seeing as this is the only bar in sight for a couple of blocks…"

He pours her third glass. "What do you really need here?"

"Good alcohol." And she downs the contents of the glass.

He pours her a fourth glass. "Other than good alcohol…"

She stares down at it, looking almost as if she's contemplating. "And—I dunno, some sort of sanctuary, I guess. All the clubs downtown open at seven, lounges in the high-end district are too expensive, and the rest of them are rundown and smell like sex and urine."

It was a compliment, really, it was—he thinks. "You aren't welcome here."

"Much like the woman with pearls strung on her neck." So she knows about—

"Her? She's welcome here anytime." He adds, "Unlike you."

She gasps for dramatic effect. "That woman of steel?" She laughs, obnoxiously, probably from the alcohol. "But she is pretty. I think it's because she's pretty that's why she's welcome here, isn't she?"

Izumo's face flushes. "She's—"

She goes on and pats his cheek with the back of her hand. "Oh, I see. It's all about the physical look, isn't it?" She laughs, the lilt of the alcohol very evident. "Next time I come here, I'll wear a fancy nightgown with diamonds and pearls! I'll strut down the street with strappy stilettos and—"

He clamps down a hand on her mouth. "You're getting really loud." He tries his best not to strangle her silent then.

The moment he removes his hand, she whispers with an all-too gleeful smile, "And I'll kiss the most handsome man I see!"

Izumo sighs, feeling defeated. He sees Chitose saunter towards her.

He slings an arm over her barely covered shoulders. "Did I just hear someone call my name?"

She laughs. "Maybe you have, maybe you haven't. Who are you anyway?"

He gives her a wide smile. "You Chitose, but sometimes I'm referred to as the most handsome man on earth."

She downs her drink. "Then this must be the planet Jupiter because I have seen far better-looking men, boy!" She laughs, leaning back against his arm. "I'm right, aren't I, bartender?"

Izumo shrugs, sighs.

She waves her glass in the air, her head down on the counter. "Gimme my fifth!"

Chitose grabs her glass before she can place it down on the counter. He removes his arm over her and walks over to Izumo. "She's a heavy drinker, isn't she Kusanagi-san?"

Izumo shrugs and takes the glass from Chitose's hold. "She's an annoyance, yes. Something that isn't really that welcome in HOMURA, and yet she's here."

"We never really thought you'd get a girlfriend like her—"

"She's not."

"But—"

"She's not, Chitose, and she will never be."

There was a silence as Izumo pours her fifth round.

"Well," Chitose shrugs, waves goodbye. "I guess I'm off now. See 'ya later, Kusanagi-san." He walks out of the building with a smile.

Izumo waves goodbye with a smile, before walking over to Akari—who is apparently asleep, "Seriously."

He downs the rest of her drink down his throat, feeling the strong burn of the vodka and the sickly sweet n' sour of the orange. He throws the rest down the drain. He checks her gun after and isn't shocked at what he sees.

There were no bullets.

He sighs, and lets her sleep.

* * *

It's past three o'clock in the afternoon when she wakes up, feeling sore and tired. She looks around. There is no one in sight. She goes for her gun, pockets it, and looks for pen and paper next.

She leaves a note before she leaves the establishment:

"Thanks for not 'having your way' with me. Really appreciate it. - A"

She doesn't leave a promise to pay her debt, but she does leave a promise to come again.

And that's what Izumo fears.

* * *

A/N: Well, I think that went well. HOMURA members just come popping outta nowhere. I'll try to make the next chapter more exciting. Read and review?


	4. jacket

Cancerous

A/N: The story's far from over. (Actually, this is the official start, yeah. And it takes me three chapters before the story really gets going.)

* * *

"I am…sorry."

For a moment, the woman standing outside the door seemed unfamiliar in her posture, in her grace. She wore a navy blue cocktail dress with thin shoulder straps. An expensive looking pair-up of diamond earnings and pearl necklace were on her, as well as a silver clutch bag hanging from her shoulder, and a pair of strappy silver heels on her feet. Her hair was fixed in an elegant bun, clipped with dark blue barrettes.

"Honestly," As she continued her way into the establishment, it was clearly evident who she was, at least to Izumo—the way she moved in that short dress and in those stilettos was less than awkward.

She took her usual seat. "I apologize for the way I acted the days before. I think you know how we alcoholics are, with a love-hate relationship with our drinks."

Izumo says after taking a long drag. "Do I know you?"

"Of course you do!" She swung her legs to the side, exclaiming, "The whole lot of you should know who I am!"

He resumed in his smoking, assuming she's already had enough to drink in one night. "You're crazy, woman."

She promptly ignored him. "I am the greatest hacker Shizume city has ever had! I am Mayonaka Akari, and I want some good alcohol to pass the night!"

Someone slammed open the door and promptly shouted, pointing a metal baseball bat at her. "Oi!"

She swiveled her seat, sat cross-legged, and stared at the boy. "Well if it isn't the kid."

Yata's cheeks flushed in anger, and maybe a bit of his hormones added to its red tint. "I-I'm not a kid!"

She leaned in, a mocking grin on her face. "Cherry boy."

He goes to swing the bat at her, but stops midway. "Y-you—!"

"What? Can't hit a woman, kid?"

Yata groans exasperatedly, and lowers his bat down to his side. "I'm going out. I need some air." And promptly makes his exit, skating down the sidewalk.

Akari leans back in her seat. "That boy's never going to get laid, and how old is he?"

Izumo answers for her, as he's the only one near her, "Nineteen."

She swivels back to the bar counter, her expression desperate. "See what I mean?" She snaps her fingers, "Metropolitan, double lime. I'm feeling rich tonight."

Izumo says after a long drag. "Excuse me?"

She makes her face look like those snooty ladies in late night TV shows. "Gimme a metropolitan with two lime slices and three ice cubes."

He shakes his head, and mutters "Might as well."

* * *

She looks and sounds completely out of place in this relaxed pub.

—which might be a reason why someone looks at her in curious interest. "It's nice to meet you, Akari-kun." Totsuka stepped in front of her, one hand on the video camera, and the other one outstretched.

She stared into the camera lens incredulously. "I don't know who you are, but you'll be documenting my greatest feats, alright?" She laughs, sliding down from her seat and wrapping her arms around Totsuka's torso. "You'll be my camera-chan!"

Totsuka smiled at her, albeit feeling uncomfortable and awkward in her tight embrace, "That's nice Akari-kun." He slowly pries himself away from her. "I've always wanted to see how hacking is done." He decides to introduce himself to her this time, "I'm Tatara Totsuka."

She waves at the camera, at him, "You're so adorable Totsuka-chan, you'll be my camera-chan until the end of my time!"

"Then let's hope that your time won't end so soon, eh Akari-kun?" He leans over to Izumo and whispers, "She's not yours, is she?"

Izumo exhales a long smoke. "Thankfully she isn't."

She slams her hand on the counter. "Oi, bartender! Where's my metropolitan?"

"Well, she's all yours, Kusanagi-san." Totsuka makes is way towards the other members of HOMURA.

"You know," Izumo makes her drink in front of her, first pouring in brandy into her cup, "I've had enough of you and your antics." He follows it with three ice cubes. "It's honestly driving me insane."

She leans in, curious, testing him. "Insane? Really?" She smirks, "You don't look it."

He pours in sweet vermouth next, "Much like you, you don't like a crazy mental escapee, but I bet you are." And tops off her drink with two slices of lime.

She holds the drink presented to her with both hands, "And I bet you're diagnosed with cancer because of too much smoking." She whispers next, "And I'd just like you to know that this bar—" She enunciates, "_stinks_."

He could clearly smell the alcohol in her breath, "As if your stench is any better."

She pulls away, a victorious grin on her lips, "Ha! So you admit it! Your bar does stink!" And takes a sip at her drink—before it is quickly pulled away from her hands. "Oi! I wasn't done with tha—"

His hand clamps around her neck, finger and thumb pressing against the underside of her jaw, "You should stop drinking."

She seems unfazed by this. "You should stop smoking."

His face stops centimeters from her, a murderous look playing his features. "It's bad for your liver."

She syllabicates each word. "It's cancerous."

"Then stop coming here."

She smirks. "You might as well throw this bar away."

"I can't."

"Then handle the drinkers."

"I already am."

"Not me."

He decides to test his luck, "So you came in an evening gown."

"With pearls and diamonds and strappy silver heels, just like I promised." Three days ago.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

She bites with enough sarcasm. "Oh, were you expecting a kiss? Sorry, but I can't see anyone here. Pity for you though, if you weren't a smoker—"

He bites back. "As if I'd kiss you."

She purses her lips. "Hmph, feeling's mutual."

He drawls out, pressing his fingers deeper on her skin. "You're not welcome here."

She feels no fear. "I don't see any sign."

The slam of the glass on laminated wood shocked everyone.

Kusanagi Izumo has had enough.

He lets go of her, shoves the glass into her hand, and moves away from her.

She downs the contents of the glass down her throat, relishing in the feel of good, glorious alcohol.

* * *

The moment she sets the glass on the table, she hears them gathering behind her, before a unified, "Good evening, Mikoto-san!"

She decides to pour her own drink. She reaches into the bar counter and grabs the bottle of brandy. She pours it into her glass until the brim. She puts her elbows on the counter, and tips the glass to her lips.

A rough, wholly masculine voice came from behind her. "What are you doing here?"

She feels as if sandpaper wiped at her back. She tips her glass back up. "Drinking." And she continued to do so.

"I can see that." A sudden blast of heat met her back. "Who are you?"

She shrugs, refusing to turn around for whoever asks. "No one of importance, just a woman who wants good alcohol."

She feels a smile in his tone. "Then you've come to the right place."

She gives herself a smile as well, "I know." And continues to drink.

She hears a hand clamp on the back of her seat. "Mayonaka Akari. So you're the one who's been causing trouble around HOMURA."

She swallows a hard gulp of brandy. "I can't really say." She sets down her glass on the counter, her other hand going inside her bag. She smirks in spite of herself. "Though I am known for causing trouble elsewhere."

He swivels her chair for her, "Aren't you afraid?"

She stares back at him. Red hair, brown eyes, it's him all right. "Of what?" The Red King himself.

She feels the heat radiate from him to her. His arms corner her in her seat and she almost feels scared. "Being burnt."

Her knees press against his torso, she thinks they might be scarred when she pulls away. "Then I'll just have to—" She pulls her gun out of her bag and aims it at his forehead, "—burn them before they get me."

* * *

A/N: Dun dun dun—Akari had just gone from bad to worse to crazy. I promise, the next chapter's gonna be awesome. Read and review please!


	5. bail-out

**Cancerous**

A/N: The part might be a bit heartbreaking, especially for me. (yes, I'm a bipolar wreck.) This is basically two chapters (supposedly) combined into one. I feel like if it's separated, it wouldn't really be….yeah. (My brain keeps on vomiting this so—and it's Christmas...)

* * *

"I didn't plan for it to go this way, honest."

Akari blinked and smiled nervously. She might as well have said that and added a sincere apology before she would run off, but she didn't.

*click*

Mikoto stared at her.

*click*

*click*

_*click*_

The gun failed to shoot. Four times.

She didn't know whether to beg for mercy or to cry for help. "It—It didn't—It was supposed to—"

He spoke, almost asking for her to continue, "Yes."

She smiled, feeling bittersweet and utterly suicidal. "Are you—are you going to kill me?"

He looked down, sighed, and moved away from her. "Hmph."

She took that as a yes—she needs to get out, now. Her eyes darted to the entrance door and seeing as there was no one blocking her exit, she ran towards the door, pushed it open, and out to the street—where she promptly trips and falls flat on her stomach, in the pouring rain.

* * *

The rest of HOMURA looks at the swung door, at the darkness of the city, and at the fallen figure of Akari.

Anna runs towards the door and stops in front of it. She stares down at Akari. She was about to move forward, but the door was closed and locked right before her.

Mikoto rubs the back of his neck. "A nuisance."

She tugs at his shirt. "Is she—"

He gives her a small smile. "Don't worry yourself, Anna."

"She—" Anna thinks. "—wants." She looks back at the door, placing a red marble before her eye, and imagines Akari's figure standing right in front of it.

"What does she want?"

Anna drawls out. "Everything."

* * *

Akari stands in front of the door now, her knuckles so close to rapping on the stained glass. Her lips mouth the words 'I'm sorry. In all honesty, I—'

She stops, and smiles bitterly. She lowers her hand and turns her back on the door, on HOMURA. She walks along the side of the building, stopping where the roof stopped. She feels cold, and wet, and sore all over. She leans back on the brick wall and breathes.

She tells herself as she fishes for a flask in her bag. "Your luck cannot get any better, Akari."

She takes off the lid and drinks up the liquid, taking pleasure in the heated feeling of the alcohol down her insides.

She stops when she hears a voice. "Oi! What are you doing here?" It was Yata, drenched in the rain.

"Where'd you rather have me, boy?" She points to the building, taking a sip of her drink. "In there?"

He exclaims. "Of course not!" But softens his voice, "But it's raining…"

She rolls her eyes. "I know, kid. Now get off and go home."

And he does, feeling angry and frustrated, he skates off to the bar.

She sighs, closes her eyes, and downs the rest of her drink. When she opens her eyes, she feels dizzy, tired, sore—and she lets herself fall to the ground, sitting with her legs stretched out in front of her and her back pressing onto the wall. She yawns, too tired to stand up, and falls asleep.

* * *

She wakes up to the smell of wood polish, alcohol, and masculine perfume. She blinks, clearing her vision; she's no longer in the shady bus station, but she's in that pub again, HOMURA, lying on the black leather couch. She looks around, tries to move, but sees that her ankles are bound, as well as her wrists. She honestly feels like a horror movie victim right now, minus the terror and the general fear.

She sighed. "Why…"

Izumo greeted her in monotone. "It's honestly not that nice to see that you're awake."

She rolls her eyes. "As if it's nice to wake up on your deathbed. Why am I here?"

Mikoto makes his entrance from the stairs, a cigarette in between his lips. "I could ask you the same thing." He removes his jacket and places it on the back of the armchair, before sitting.

She swallows a hard gulp. "No, seriously, who brought me back here?"

Izumo points to the enraged-looking teenager sitting on a bar stool. "That would be Yata."

The boy looked down, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "W-well, she just looked like she needed help." His face flushed, but he continues slowly. "I mean, y'know, she was outside, unconscious and people might take advantage of her."

This causes Akari to smirk, despite her situation. "Cherry boy."

Yata makes his exit at this, shouting an "I give up!" as he exits the door.

That just leaves Izumo, Mikoto, and Anna—who apparently appeared behind Mikoto—with her.

Mikoto asks her, "What brings you here?"

"Alcohol."

He commands, "Sit up." And she does, her hair falling over her face and her back bent awkwardly. "Other than alcohol."

She smirks. "I don't really know."

She feels the air around her tighten. Anna says to her, with a marble parallel to her eye, "You're lying."

She decides not to push her luck, and admits it, "I'm looking for work."

Mikoto follows, "Why?"

"I need money to pay back my debts."

"To?"

She shrugs, "Silver Trade, underground contractors, the worst of the worst."

"We can't help you with that."

"What—why?"

He leans in. "You've caused enough trouble."

She tries to explain. "But I was just—! I thought HOMURA understood the codes of the Yakuza, the codes of the—"

He stares at her. "Are you afraid?"

She stops. "No."

"Of being burnt?"

She shakes her head. Scars are temporary. "No."

"Of dying?"

She slowly moves her head from left to right. People are bound to die at some point. "No."

"Sacrifice?"

"Depends."

She feels as if he's strangling her with his hand. "Answer me."

"No."

"Of losing?"

"No."

"Of being forgotten?"

She stops, pauses, thinks. Amnesia happens. "No."

"Betrayal?"

She hates how she almost becomes so honest at this point, "I—no."

He leans back in his chair and examines her, looks into the depth of her eyes. He sees nothing. "We can't help you."

She isn't sure whether she should cry or degrade herself, so she does part of both, cursing her desperation. "Then I'll help you! We'll help each other! I don't need to be part of your clan to help you, right? And you help even those outside your clan, right?"

He doesn't see the truth in her—not yet, he thinks. He asks Anna, "What do you see?"

Anna responds in a whisper, looking up at him, "Lies."

She laughs, tears about to stream from her eyes. "The truth is, I'm looking for—" She bites her tongue at the word, "I'm looking for people to trust; not people I can trust, but people to entrust something to, people to rely on."

He quirks an eyebrow at her statement, "Why?"

She looks up at him, smiling bitterly. "Trust is just so hard to find these days, isn't it?" She looks down again, bitterness evident in her voice, "When you think you can rely on them, they just go and break your trust right in front of you."

"Trust, huh?"

She nods. "Someone broke my trust."

"How?"

She clips the entire story into one sentence, saves the entirety of it all for the next time—if there is one. "They left me."

He shrugs, leaning back onto the chair. "Then it's your problem."

She doesn't like how straight-minded his is. "I'll help you, I promise. I will!"

He still does not believe her. "Izumo says you've been causing lots trouble here."

She shakes her head. "The amphetamine bills were for safekeeping, I needed to keep them off my hands for a moment. The photographs were for intimidation purposes, to let you know who I am and what I'm capable of. I hack into databases and I launder the money to and from various sources. I even organize trafficking! I can give you the world!"

He decides. "We don't need the world."

"But I—!" She gives up, "Don't you want power?"

"How much are you willing to give?"

She sound exasperated. "Everything!"

"Everything?"

She nods. "I'll take everything for you!"

"You're a criminal."

She nearly shouts this one, angry and frustrated, with tears streaming from her eyes. "Then what does that make HOMURA?"

Mikoto looks at Izumo and smiles as he does, squeezing Anna's hand tenderly. "A family."

* * *

Akari admits with her head hung low and her eyes wet with tears. "I—I used to have a family."

Flashes of memory showed against the inside of her eyelids. She sees smiles, tears, birthday cakes, high-rise towers, fireworks, bombs, and an outline of a rabbit.

It was almost inaudible, and so Mikoto asks, "What?"

"I used to have a family." She looks at Anna, "Just like HOMURA's. We—" Her breath hitches. "Yes, we, we used to be so happy." Her looks back down and she shakes her head. "We did everything together. We took on the world together. It was just us against the world, just how we like it, fighting for nothing else but ourselves."

Anna asks this time. "Why?"

"We had nothing else."

"You're lying."

Akari looks at the girl incredulously, but gives in after. She says with a bitter smile, "Then what does that make your family, girl?" She looks at Mikoto, "What does that make the so-called family of HOMURA? All of you are liars. All the Kings are liars! You give us false hopes of changing our lives. You promise us so much, and you can't even—"

Mikoto's hand clamped on her throat, pulling her to her feet, "Watch your words carefully."

She doesn't stop there, "—You give us so much, even when you know you can't! You all are a bunch of liars! Liars!" She laughs as a slow burn enveloped her.

Mikoto sighs, releases her and lets her fall to the seat, "What are you talking about?"

She continues to laugh. He turns to Anna, who says, "She's confused—somehow."

Akari stops and looks at Anna sharply, "Don't tell me what I am, little girl!"

This harsh statement forces Mikoto to pull her by her hair, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Stop."

She looks up at him defiantly, ignoring the sharp pain at her neck, "Never."

"Then burn."

He sets her hair, its long length quick to transform into ashes falling around her. She doesn't scream, but she closes her eyes in acceptance of her fate. When she opens her eyes, she's surprised to be alive, with a few burns around her neck and shoulder, but alive.

She looks up at Mikoto, who has Anna by his side, clutching at his shirt, "Why…"

Anna was the one to reply, "Mercy."

She bites her lower lip, half-thankful at this. Mikoto then crouches down to her level and removes the bindings around her wrists and ankles. She feels a sharp burn as his fingers touch her skin.

She decides to give her gratitude, "Thank—"

Mikoto glowers down at her, "Get out."

And so she does, he moves away from her and lights a cigarette as she slips on her heels and slings her bag over her shoulder.

She walks slowly towards the door, her hand stops at the sound of his voice. "Izumo, make sure she's safe until she's out of our territory."

* * *

Izumo sighs before he inhales through his lit cigarette, glancing at her disgusted face. "You don't have to make that face, you know."

She retorts, "I was almost killed!"

He takes a long drag. "Hn."

She takes the rest of her hair in one hand, "My hair's been burnt." She starts complaining, her tone increasing with every sentence. "I've got burn marks on m left shoulder. I'm walking with blisters on my feet. And you're here, forcing me to breathe in your smoke!"

He shrugs, exhaling, "You don't have to complain. At least you're alive."

"At least, huh? Well, isn't that great—at least I'm alive."

"Well, isn't it?"

She stops and turns to her side. "If you know me, you'd be praying that I kill myself in the evening with an overdose of sleeping pills and two glasses of red wine."

He stops as well, and turns to her, taking in a long drag. "Unfortunately I don't, so would you tell me a reason why?"

She leans back on the wall, "Ugh, these heels are killing me! Would you hold them for me?"

He shrugs, and she takes it as a 'yes'. So she removes her shoes and shoves them to his chest, where he fumbled with them a little before holding them by the heel with one hand.

He exhales a smoke. "So why?"

"Why what?"

He rolls his eyes. "Why should I pray for you to commit suicide?"

She turns back forward, and starts to walk. "My life's been hell."

He follows her, keeping up with her pace easily. "Uh-huh."

"Literally, it has. Remember the amphetamine bills?"

He nods.

"Those weren't mine. I was supposed to send them over to a contact in the Red Light district, he wasn't there, but the police were. I couldn't possibly keep them on me for long, I've got a day job!"

"As?"

"As a person looking for a day job!" He thinks her humor is anything but funny, "I couldn't keep the drugs at my place—I got a minor in there! So I decide to look for local, likely safe places to hide them."

He pieces it together. "So HOMURA…"

She nods. "Yep. I thought you guys know about dealing with drugs, so I gave it there. Unfortunately you had to go and burn them up."

"You never informed—"

She sounds exasperated. She rolls her head along her shoulders. "Yes, I know. My fault, I learned from it. Anyway—"

He takes a smoke. "Were you stalking us?"

"No, why should I?"

"The pictures, video stills?"

"I'm a hacker, remember? I do surveillance exploits for a partial living."

"Why?"

"Why hack or why HOMURA?"

He shrugs. "Both."

"Technology's widespread and it's all good, but it can turn into an epidemic just as easy. And HOMURA, well basically because you guys are so well-known for striking fear—but I guess I was wrong about that."

He sighs, sounding disappointed in her. "You don't know anything, do you?"

She cracks a smile on her face. "About HOMURA? No, I guess I don't."

He gives himself a mental face-palm. "You're insane."

"And it's the—what? Second time you've told me?" She shakes her head, mocking him, "Honestly, bartender, before you call someone insane, get to know them first."

"I already am," He stops, gives her a formal introduction, "And it's Izumo. Kusanagi Izumo."

She nods, smirks. "Nice to meet you, Kusanagi-san." She holds out a hand, "Mayonaka Akari, perhaps you've heard of me?"

He goes ahead and shakes it, although tentatively at first. "Not really, no."

They continue walking. "There we go, now wasn't that so easy?"

"You're still insane."

"What makes you say that?"

He holds up three fingers, holding his cigarette between his thumb and index finger, "One, you actually wore a blue dress. Two, you were utterly suicidal last night. And three, what were you thinking?"

"Three things as well." She raises three fingers, "One, I keep to my word. Two, who cares? Three, I don't know."

He takes a smoke, and lowers his hand. "You aren't just insane. You're insane and a drunkard."

"Thank you. Speaking of, you don't suppose I can—"

He cuts her off. "You're not welcome in HOMURA anymore."

"Oh, come on. I just want some good alcohol—and damn—HOMURA has the best ones I've ever tasted."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Who said I was flattering you? I meant the alcohol, of course."

He shrugs, mutters, "Whatever floats your boat."

"My ship's already sunk."

"You weren't supposed to reply to that."

"But I did, so?"

He stops in front of a subway station's entrance. "You are just so awfully annoying."

She steps in front of him. "And I guess this is where it ends, eh, bartender?"

"Finally."

"You don't mean it, do you?"

"What?"

The entire thing about me being insane, annoying, not welcome—she clips her statement. "Nothing." She grabs her shoes from his hand and smiles at him. "Goodbye, Kusanagi-san. It was nice drinking with you."

You make it sound bad—he wants to say, but settles with, "Feeling's not mutual."

She makes her way down the stairs, but glances back at him. "I know."

* * *

Later that morning, Anna stares at her picture. It was caught in the spur of the moment, but a picture of Akari nonetheless. Three marbles revolved around it.

Izumo looks over in curiosity, "What's that, Anna?"

She tests her name, "Mayonaka Akari."

He sighs, giving Anna a small smile, "She's honestly a crazed woman."

Anna whispers, almost inaudible to Izumo, "What do you want?"

* * *

_"Oi. I need a ride… I'm here at the subway station nearest HOMURA… Oh, you don't know what hell I've gone through… But yes, I got it."_

* * *

A/N: Happy Holidays everyone. I hope all of you have a merry Christmas and an awesome New Year.

**Honestly, I'm making this up as I go… Read and review?


	6. on the bumper

Cancerous

A/N: Yes, well, here's the rest of it. K's last episode made me cry and wish and hope for something.

* * *

"I've been put through absolute hell, but I did it, just as planned."

She keeps the air of confidence around her, despite her current state.

He nods. "Yes. I can see that."

She is exasperated. "What? No words of gratitude? No reward payment? Nothing?"

He leans back in his chair. "You're an enemy of the law."

"Oh and you're the law, then?"

He smirks. "Of course I am."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Well, that sucks for you doesn't it?"

He leans in. "Explain."

"You had to get your hands on one of Shizume city's worst law-abiding citizens," She leans in with a smirk on her face, emphasizing her next statement, "Just to get what you want."

"What is it that I want? Do you have any idea of what I want?"

She narrows her eyes at his expression. "Why are you so keen on destroying HOMURA?"

He gives her a confident smile, hiding his true intentions. "Simple. To exact justice."

"Then you've got some messed-up justice system here. I can't even believe the Prime Minister lets you get away with it!"

He goes to explain. "He—"

"Oh, don't tell me, you've been playing with the Prime Minister too? Well isn't that just so noble of you."

He puts his elbows on the desk and laces his fingers together. "Your words of flattery precede your reputation."

She rolls he eyes. "And your ideals of justice and servitude are completely the same."

He pauses for a moment, gets a long look at her. "Blue looks good on you."

She is quick to retort. "As well as red, green, violet, gold—oh, and silver too."

"Are you ever going to accept my proposition?"

She looks down. "Even if the time comes that people like me need to choose sides, it'd be more likely that I'd join them."

"And look what happened to you..."

"Look what's happening with you. You're getting desperate."

He makes an excuse. "Adaptation. With people like you running the streets, we'd need to adapt and take advantage of it."

"Corrupt bastard."

"Just doing what we can do."

She walks off, leaves him. "I expect a full payment by sundown, Munakata."

He says as she leaves the door open. "As always, Mayonaka-san."

* * *

It's two in the afternoon by the time she reaches her apartment.

Someone embraces her waist, forcing her down on the floor. "Kari-chan!"

She pats this person's head, "Usagi."

The said "Usagi" gets off of her, stands up, and offers a hand, which she gladly takes. "Where have you been? You look like a mess!"

"I was—" She thinks of the HOMURA bar, the graffiti-ed train, the rainy downpour last night, the blues' office, the—"at a local pub," She decides, and gives a nervous laugh, "You know me."

Usagi exclaims, noticing Akari's messy state. "The Yaku! They did this to you, didn't they?"

She shakes her head. "I haven't seen them in years." It's true.

"Then who?"

She walks to the bathroom, grabbing a pair of scissors on the desk as she's on her way. "It's not a problem, Usagi. I've always wanted a haircut, and this is my chance."

"Are you sure?"

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, mother. I'm sure."

Usagi crosses her arms over her chest, "Alright." And calls out after Akari's locked the bathroom door, "Just make sure you clean up!"

* * *

Akari looks at herself in the mirror. Her mascara's ruined. Her eyeliner's still half-intact. Her lipstick's been turned into a reddish smear on her face. Her dark brown eyes are now tired and bloodshot.

She says before untying her bun. "You're a mess."

She lets her dark brown hair fall over her face and sees that parts of it fall into the sink and on the floor, burnt pieces that have gone dry and crisp. She looks at herself and compares the reflection to a girl raped and mangled by some sadistic psychopath. She parts her hair, on the left and on the right, and looks at the length, examining locks of it with two fingers.

She sighs. "You are one merciless bastard, Red King." Her hair used to be until her lower back and she was proud of that, but now the longest length was up to her shoulder blades and the shortest length until her ear.

She gets the scissors and starts cutting, feeling the burn on her neck and shoulder.

When she's midway into cutting her hair, and she thinks of Usagi, the little girl whom she'd met six years ago. Her real name was Kagome Hikaru, but she settled with the name "Usagi" because of her love for rabbits. Akari took her in, knowing that both of them had no one else—no family to run to, no friends to turn to, nothing but themselves.

Akari remembers the little girl's face to be much like her own as a child, brown hair and brown eyes, she was nothing special. But Usagi had a love that would surpass her mother's, Akari thought. She had faith in her, she cared for her, she loved her—she was, and still is, Akari's only family.

* * *

The moment Akari exits the bathroom; she's met with a question.

"Why do you keep doing these things?"

She stares at Usagi, who's holding Akari's cellphone in one hand.

Akari decides to act innocent. "What things?"

"You know what I mean."

"Oh, then what is it?"

"The things you do when it's past midnight and I'm asleep."

"I'm out drinking."

Usagi scans through Akari's inbox, her eyes widening with each message. "Then what's this I see about packets and numbers and—and kings?"

"Usagi, I'm tired. I was out all—"

Usagi stomps her foot the moment Akari turns her back. "I'm tired too! I'm tired of waiting all the time, thinking whether or not you'd come home alive, or I'd see you on the news—dead!"

She reassures the girl. "Usagi, no one's coming after me."

"I know, but with everything you're doing…"

"I'm not doing anything that involves bombs, murders, and heists." Not yet.

"You're doing something much, much worse." Usagi sets down Akari's cellphone on a table. "You're dealing with kings, and you know what that means."

Akari sighs. "I know, Usagi, but they won't come for us, they won't come for you. I'll make sure that you're safe."

"They'll come for you. They'll kill you, Akari."

"They won't. I'm just a pawn in their eyes, when my work's done—"

"Then you're done too."

Akari bites her lips into a thin line before saying. "Usagi. I'll never be done."

Usagi manages a whisper. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"Don't be."

"You got—" She pauses, unable to think of it, "—burned, didn't you?"

She nods since Usagi's already seen the message she's sent to Munakata. "Minor burn, it's fine."

"They could've killed you." Usagi doesn't mention the clans.

"Who? HOMURA or SCEPTER4?"

"Why them?" Usagi's referring to SCEPTER4, Akari thinks, but decides to explain both.

"HOMURA's seen through me." I made our family as an excuse when it's not—she refuses to say, and continues, "And SCEPTER4's got a messed-up justice system." They'll kill me without second thoughts once they know about you, and everyone else—she also omits.

"They're kings."

"Why don't you just stop, Akari?" Usagi's never called her by her real name.

I can't, Usagi. I just can't—she wants to say because she doesn't have a real reason. "I'm doing this for us."

"You don't have to."

"I don't want you to live off the streets, Usagi."

"It's fine, as long as you're with me, as long as we're still a family."

Akari repeats Usagi's kind words, "As long as we're still a family." That statement plunges into her heart like a knife, "—huh, Usagi? What can you call a family these days?"

"You and me. Surviving. Just us against the world."

Akari tears those words apart in her head. "It's never just us, Usagi." She walks away, and Usagi sees the burn marks on her shoulder and neck, "Sometimes it's just you, all alone."

Akari remembers the feeling of loneliness, as fresh a knife cutting through a piece of meat.

* * *

That afternoon, Usagi slides an envelope through the gap of Akari's door and the wooden floor.

_Miss Akari,_

_Along with this letter is a cheque for thirty thousand yen (__￥30,000). I shall expect you in my office twenty hours from when you receive this letter. It is always a pleasure working with you._

_Munakata Reisi_

_SCEPTER4_

* * *

A/N: That just cuts it. I hope you wonderful people do review because I am still sort of lost with what goes on here. I've got a plan, but it's still sort of vague. Read and review please!


	7. bug juice

Cancerous

A/N: Since it's the New Year season, how's about a filler scene? Well, this isn't actually a filler, it's just a pretty dialogue—so let's get on with it.

* * *

Akari pleads through the phone. "I honestly just want to apologize, that's all."

Izumo replies. "You did that before. You failed."

"I didn't expect your big 'ol boss to come running in."

"And I didn't expect you to call me like this."

He can feel her smirk. "What would you rather have? Me wrecking your precious bar?"

He rolls his eyes. "What do you want?"

"Other than a bottle of wine and a pocket full of cash? You accepting my apology."

"Give me a reason to."

"It's a new year!"

"New Year's was about a month ago."

"It isn't too late to start on your resolution! And you're in mine!"

He makes a face of disgust, hoping that she can feel it. "Am I supposed to be happy?"

She didn't. "Ecstatic! Not much people get into my list of New Year's resolutions."

"I consider myself unlucky."

"Treamarie Towers. The incomplete one. Bring alcohol. I'm on the thirty-second floor."

"Why?"

"Never too late to apologize."

"You think I'll actually come…"

"Well, I guess it's better than me slobbering all over that hardwood counter."

He promptly hangs up on her, and sighs.

* * *

She stares at his approaching form. "I never thought you'd actually come."

He shows the bottle of win from behind his back, it was the first one he's seen since he got her call, and it would be disrespectful of him to not bring—which doesn't mean that he's got a decent amount of respect for her, he's still suspicious. "No tricks."

She raises a brow. "No tricks?"

"No."

She shrugs. "Alright. Then I guess it's too late to say this—" She whips out a gun and points it to his chest. "I'm going to kill you."

He walks forward. "No, you aren't."

She considers, "I might."

"Pull that trigger." He sets down the bottle in front of her. "I dare you."

"You play pretty hard, bartender." She pockets back the gun. "That's what I like about you."

"And there's nothing I like about you."

She stands up, holding out her hand. "Mayonaka Akari, I believe we've met before."

He stares down at it. "I've never seen such an insane person before."

"Well now you have, now let's shake hands."

"I'd rather not."

She smiles. "We're all friends, aren't we?"

"I'm not with you."

"Then let's make amends."

"Why are you here?"

She lowers her hand. "The question is, why did I call you here?"

"Either or."

She shrugs. "Dunno, I felt lonely."

"Then why don't you bother someone else?"

She picks up the wine bottle. "I don't have anybody else."

"Should I actually feel sorry for you?"

"I don't need anyone's sympathy." She sits back down, her back facing him. She looks forward at the setting sun. "I just need some company."

He takes out a cigarette, and lights it. "Why me?"

"Why not you?"

"You're joking." He inhales a long drag.

"You've got alcohol and that's all that matters."

He exhales. "Crazy drunkard."

She continues for him, "Hacker extraordinaire."

"I wouldn't call you extraordinary."

"Then what would you call me then? Insane?"

"Bingo." He takes another drag.

"You're too sweet, you know that?"

He mutters, "I guess I am."

She attempts to be cute, and fails. "You're giving me a toothache."

"You're giving me a headache." He motions his hand to the wine bottle beside her. "So there's your alcohol. I'll be going now."

She calls out. "No, don't leave me here!"

"What do you want?"

"Just stay here. Let's—" She looks up, trying to find a word, and settles with "—talk. Let's reach a compromise."

"On what?"

She points to him, and then to her. "On you and me. Bartender and drunkard."

He takes in a drag, and exhales. "Sounds disgusting."

"And yet you're still here." She smirks. "I knew I was irresistible."

He shakes his head. "No. You aren't."

"So what do we do now? Call for a toast?"

"To what?"

"To the new year."

He closes his eyes, takes in a drag. "Got any glasses?"

"No."

"Then how's the toast going to be, well—a toast?"

She stands up and walks over to him. She touches the back of his hand with the back of one of hers. "Fist bump." She pats his shoulder. "Pat on the back." She leans in, "Then kiss—"

His lips almost lose grip on the cigarette. "Wait, what—!"

She laughs, stepping back. "Just kidding. I wouldn't kiss you."

"Neither would I, you."

"So what do we do now?" She places her hands on her hips. "Stare at each other until someone pulls out a gun?"

"You already pulled out yours. I can't see why—"

She glares at him all of a sudden. "Don't you dare berate me ever again," She pulls out her gun, "Bartender."

He hears it click a loaded bullet. "Oh, it's loaded this time?" He mocks her, "That's actually surprising."

She steps forward, cocking her head to one side, "How can you be so calm when I've got a loaded gun pressed to your forehead?"

He feels the cold metal on his skin. "You can't pull that trigger."

"Watch me—" She almost pulls the trigger—

"I'd rather not." He grabs her wrist and twists her arm behind her back. He brings her to her knees and shoves her face to the floor. She loses her grip on the gun and falls face forward. He sits on her back, her gun in his hands.

She struggles against his weight. "Oi! Get off!"

He examines the gun. "It's loaded with pellets." He gets the hard plastic "bullets" out of the gun and throws them aside. "Take back what I said earlier, you're as pathetic as it gets."

She doesn't take away her pride. "Don't you insult me! I can kill you and all your HOMURA punks!"

He pulls her head up the hair, intimidating her. "Then why didn't you?"

She grunts.

He stares down at her face. "Why did you hesitate? What made you hesitate?"

She comments. "You know, under different circumstances, I could find this arousing."

He releases his grip on her hair, and gets off of her, walking as far as possible from her. "You make me sick, you know that?"

She stands up and walks over to the unopened bottle of wine. She makes fun of it, her sitaution. "Sick enough to go drinking this classy bottle of wine with me." She looks at the label, "Like, what is this—aged twenty?"

He takes in a long drag, and sighs. "Twenty-seven."

"Where'd you get it?"

"Italy."

"Wow. You must've been a huge brat to get this."

"Cost me a fortune."

She looks up at him. "So we're friends?"

"I've got to be insane."

She walks over to him, shoving the bottle to his chest, silently demanding that he open it. "Like me. See? We've got lots of things in common."

He does open it, and makes sure to let the cork to miss her on purpose, and let the foamy spirit spray over her, which does. He smirks when it happens. "How about no?"

She takes the bottle out of his hands, and licks her lips of the wine. "You smoke. I drink." She takes her free hand to wipe her face. "We're going to die young and most likely make pretty corpses and all the necrophiliacs can ogle at us."

"That's disgusting."

She takes a swill as he takes a drag. "We both don't give a damn about the world."

"What makes you say that?"

"You didn't care when I was about to get murdered." She shrugs, and takes another swill. "I didn't care at all."

"That doesn't make any sense."

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "The Red King. You just—want him."

"He's been my friend for the longest time."

She nods, and corrects herself. "Correction. You want to be with him."

"Do I even have to explain?"

"I want him dead."

He takes a drag; somehow it feels normal for him; people wanting Mikoto dead. "So you were planning to kill him."

She corrects herself again, "Correction." She takes a swill, and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Someone wants him dead, I'm just the means of killing him."

"Only a king can kill a king."

"A king is just a man, much like any of us."

He looks at her now, at her fixated expression. "You don't get it, do you?"

She shrugs. "What's there to get? He's just a man."

"He's not just any man. He's the Red King."

She scoffs, "Take that away and what is he left with?"

"Us." He nods. "HOMURA."

"Strip him of his title and you strip him of his dignity." She walks forward, wine bottle at her side. "You're nothing without him. He's nothing without his crown."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Just for you to know." She adds, "It's the King system."

"I couldn't care less about this so-called system." Because he cares only for Mikoto and for HOMURA.

She takes a swill. She exhales. "The Sword of Damocles," She sounds so sure, "That's the kings' crowning glory. Take that away and he's left with absolutely nothing."

He denies her completely. "He's strong."

She goes and blurts out a deniable truth. "He's got cancer for crying out loud!" She acts as if he, Mikoto, matters all of a sudden. "When's the last time he got chemo? Medication? A check-up?"

Mikoto doesn't have any disease as far as Izumo knows. "He doesn't have—"

He thinks she's making up lies. She just continues, "I didn't take-up medical psychology for nothing, bartender." She stares right at him. "I know when a man's dying and when hell hath no fury to a woman on her period."

"He's not what you think he is. Who are you to place your judgment on our king?"

She steps back, breathes in, and calms herself. "I'm the rest of the people who live in fear of those self-appointed kings."

"There's nothing to be afraid of. You're casting illusions on yourself and everyone else."

"Isn't being a king an illusion too?" She becomes exasperated. "There's no overflowing wealth, no might and glory, no everlasting power, nothing."

Mikoto doesn't need any of those superficial things. "He doesn't need any of those."

She concludes, looking down at his feet, "If I know, I'd guess you'd want to be king." She provides support for her claim, albeit sounding bitter. "You know; rid your friend of that burden of running an already decomposing hole you call as HOMURA."

He uses the possessive term; he's a protector of HOMURA as much as Mikoto is the creator. "I'd like to warn you about insulting my clan, but you won't listen."

"I'm listening, it's just that I'm not afraid of you or your king." She smirks. "He can kill me. You can try to kill me, but you can't. You can't hurt a poor soul like me."

"Why not?"

"Because you've been your king's knight." She purposely drawls out, "I wouldn't say knight-in-shining-armor, but you're that combat-weary, heartbroken knight."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You'd kill only if your king kills, and so far he hasn't."

He—HOMURA—is different from her, yes—he thinks. "We aren't criminals."

"And does that make you any different from me?" She answers herself. "No, it doesn't. In fact, we're pretty much the same, you and I."

"No, we're not. We'll never be."

She is true about one thing, for the first time she is. "You've got something you want to protect and I've got mine. We both just want to see them happy and alive."

He turns his back to her and starts walking away. "I'm leaving."

"Well isn't that just dandy?" She complains. "Leave a woman alone to fend for herself in the night."

"I doubt that."

"Right you are, bartender." She takes a swill. "Send my regards to your king." She smirks. "I'm sure he'd be glad to hear from me."

He takes a drag as he nears the lift. "I doubt that he would."

"Of course. He's a dying man." He hears her footsteps approaching him. "No one lying on their deathbed would want to hear death's phone call."

He looks over his shoulder and sees her confident face. "You're a complete lunatic."

She puts a hand on her hip, and takes a swill. "And so far, you haven't tried to kill me." She says—exclaims, practically shouts out he thinks—

"I like you, bartender."

* * *

The moment Izumo locks the doors to HOMURA, Mikoto comes from the stairwell, "Where have you been, Izumo?"

He gives him a smile. "Nowhere, just some place where the alcohol really gets the drunkards going."

Mikoto gives him a small smile. "I'm glad you're safe."

"So am I." Izumo doesn't mean himself.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so I have this theory of Mikoto having cancer... It's possible though. Cells deteriorating? His Sword of Damocles deteriorating *dies* I've been having a particularly bad day today. School has been hell, I've got lots to do, but I'm glad the weekend's near. I basically spent my Christmas break as unproductively as I can, and that's not really good. I wish it was already summer. Read and review?


	8. dipping in the kool aid

**Cancerous**

A/N: My stories progress very slowly, and I like it, it somehow builds up the tension. (Hey, I'm 16 and I'm a budding Lit major, so yeah…)

* * *

"I need your help."

When Izumo looked up, he was half-thankful that it wasn't the drunkard, but he was half-surprised when it was a girl.

"Miss, are you lost?"

She snapped at him. "Sir, I'm not lost. I'm nineteen years old. I ought to know my way through this town, and I do."

He finds her disrespectful, much like—

Yata bursts through the door, almost hitting the girl. "Yo, Kusanagi-san!"

She brushes it off and shows a picture to his face. "Excuse me, have you seen this person before?"

Yata takes the picture and smirks. "Oi, Kusanagi-san, isn't this your girlfriend?"

Izumo sighs—yes, it is—"Yata.."

The girl's face turns to shock and then to anger. "Girlfriend? So you're that bartender!"

He shakes his head. "Miss, I don't know who that is. I've never seen her in my life."

She crosses her arms at her chest, and narrows her eyes at him, "The exact same words, huh?"

"Listen, I—"

She inhales, and then exhales. "I need your help." She eyes Yata. "Yours too, punk."

"Listen here—!"

Izumo blocks Yata from hitting the girl with his fist. "Yata, calm down, at least she's more sane than—her."

Yata shrugs. "Fine, but I'm not hanging around to listen." And makes his exit out the bar.

Izumo looks at the girl, with brown hair cut neatly to her lower back and bangs cut below her eyebrows. She had dark brown eyes and a simple, pastel-colored dress. He asks for her name. "What is it you want, miss?"

She gives it, taking a seat at the bar. "Hikaru. Kagome Hikaru."

"Yes, miss Hikaru, why are you looking for her?"

"She's missing."

"And?"

"I'm looking for her."

He rolls his eyes. "Apparently."

She inquires. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"Forgot."

She sounds like a detective this time. "Last week was it? On the 19th?"

"Maybe."

She supplies him information, with a smirk. "Tremarie towers, right? She was drunk when she got home."

He thinks Akari's a bisexual. "Are you her—"

She says quickly, clearly, "Illegitimately adopted sister. Yes, we live together."

He feels pity for her. "Oh. Poor girl."

"Are you referring to her, or me?"

"You, of course, with that drunkard running around the city, it's giving a girl like you a bad time growing up."

She takes his words as an insult and glares at him. "It's because of her that I'm still alive."

He brushes it off. "Isn't that a wonderful story? I've heard enough of that."

"She told you about me, hasn't she?"

"Once, I think."

"How much did she tell you?"

"That she lived with someone, that's all."

She frowns. "Oh, she was sober."

"Is she ever?"

"Well, she was when she told you that, but that's not the point. She's missing and I need your help in finding her."

"Why?"

She shrugs. "She's the only family I got."

"So, hypothetically, what if we do find her? What next?"

She smiles. "I want you to save her."

"Why would I even—"

She nods. "All of you."

"HOMURA doesn't deal with these kinds of matters."

She leans in. "I want to talk to your king."

He rolls his eyes. "Impossible."

"I need to. I think he's going to understand."

"What if he won't?"

She is either optimistic, careless, or both. "Then he doesn't, simple as that."

* * *

So Hikaru goes to explain the irony of her situation, that she's looking for a person that might not want to be found after all, to the Red King himself. "…And that's why I need your help."

He stares disinterestedly, leaning back against the chair. "What makes you think we will?"

Hikaru knows this very well. "Because I've heard that you're like a family."

"Not 'like a family'—we are one."

She presses on with her question. "So will you help me?"

The girl at his side tugs on his upper sleeve. "Mikoto?"

He looks at Anna, who gives him worried eyes, and looks back at the confident girl in front of him. "How do we know you're not a liar like her?"

Hikaru clenches her fist. "She raised me as a victor, I live as a survivor. I don't lie, not all the time."

Anna whispers to him. "She's telling the truth."

She adds, "Sometimes I do. But when it comes to things that involve family, lies are out of the question."

He asks quickly after her statement. "How much are you willing to sacrifice?"

"For her? Anything."

He chuckles, she sounds so dramatic. "No, really."

She almost looks exasperated. "Everything."

He taunts her. "Like what?"

She swallows a hard gulp. "My life."

"Sounds dramatic."

"There's nothing else I could give her in return for everything she's done."

He motions his hand for emphasis. "She's nothing but a nuisance to Izumo's bar."

She stares him right in the eye. "She's my only family."

He shakes his head, feeling amused at her serious tone. "No need to be dramatic,"

She grits her teeth. "I'm not."

Anna tugs on his sleeve, whispers to him, "Mikoto."

"What is it, Anna?"

She has a marble placed to her eye. "I can see her." Anna sees a bright, bright red-orange.

He pats her head lovingly. "Well, that's good."

Hikaru feels nervous. "What, what are you talking about?"

"How much are you willing to give for her?"

She repeats. "My life."

"What else?"

"I'm—" He breath catches in her throat, she doesn't know anything else so she makes up—"I'm willing to join HOMURA."

He stands up this time, and he's taller than her. He still looks very intimidating even with a child on his arm. "What makes you think I'll accept you?"

She doesn't let herself falter. "I want to join HOMURA, for her, to save her."

He smirks. "Join HOMURA to save someone else?"

"Yes, because HOMURA can help me and I can help you, we'll all help her."

"So it's all about her? In the end, it's still her?"

She gives a sad smile. "That's family."

He reaches out his hand, set on fire, "Welcome to HOMURA."

She stares at it, fearing that her skin might be turned to ash, but proceeds to shake his hand with hers. She feels her back and neck being set on fire for a brief second.

There's the mark.

* * *

Hikaru opens the apartment door. The lights have been switched off—

"Hello? Usagi? It's me. I'm sorry."

Hikaru bites her lip. "Kari-chan."

The lights are switched on. She sees Akari standing in the kitchen, her clothes and skin dirtied, her hair disheveled, and her face matted with dirt and what looked like dried blood. "Usagi. I'm sorry."

She tries not to cry. "I know. I am too."

Akari walks toward her, slowly."Why?"

"For this—" She pulls her hair away from the side of her neck, and reveals the crimson burn, the mark of the flame.

Akari chokes on her air. "You joined HOMURA?"

"I can explain."

Akari rushes over and grabs Hikaru's shoulders, sounding and looking infuriated. "Usagi. Usagi why the hell—"

She gives her a smile. "I want to help you, Akari."

Akari releases her grip on Hikaru and back away, question flooding from her mouth. She shakes her head, "How is joining HOMURA—help me? Why would you want to help me? Where would you help me? Why? What's going on?"

"Nothing. Nothing's going on, Akari. I'm just worried about you."

She looks up and into her eyes. "Why are you, Usagi?"

Hikaru reaches a hand on Akari's shoulder, trying to comfort her. "Akari, Kari-chan, you're falling out. I want to help you. You don't have to do those things anymore."

Akari's voice falters a little, and sounds like she's about to cry. "But I—"

"HOMURA's going to help us, Kari-chan."

Akari grits her teeth into an ironic smile, and says bitterly, "HOMURA? How do you think HOMURA will help? How do you think people like them will help me?"

Honestly, Hikaru doesn't know. "They're—they're going to give us a family."

She shoves Hikary away. "Family, Usagi? What kind of family do you think they have? They have the kind of family that will leave you in the rain to die!"

Hikaru knows that Akari cannot be rid of her past demons. "They aren't like the Yaku, Kari-chan."

"How do you know? The Yaku's got a king, they've got a king—"

She sounds, "I don't. But I hope what I think is true."

A tear falls from Akari's left eye. "Usagi, just—just why?"

"Because I want to put my trust into people. I want to know that people can help us, that people can help you."

Akari wipes it away with the back of her hand. She puts on an air of self-reliance. "I can only help myself, Usagi. I don't need their help."

Hikaru's words break her heart. "But you need mine."

"I do, but I don't want to place such a burden on you, Usagi."

Hikaru sighs, frustrated at how Akari treats her like a child. "It's not! It's never been! I just want both of us to be saved. Don't you want that, Akari?"

Akari smiles a little. "I'm beyond saving."

"Then why save me?"

Akari proceeds to walk away and to her bedroom door. "Because you deserve it. Save yourself, Usagi. If you think I can't save myself from this state I'm in, think again."

Hikaru drawls out, saying each word clearly, "I don't want you to suffer."

She has her back on Hikaru. "Who says I am? I'm perfectly fine."

"But HOMURA's—"

Akari's had enough of HOMURA, and turns to glare at Hikaru. "You know what, Usagi?" She points to the front door. "Get out."

Hikaru continues, "—going to give us a real family, a family you've always wanted."

She turns her back on Hikaru again, her hand on the doorknob now. "I don't care. Get your stuff and get out."

She hears Hikaru's footsteps going away. "Wouldn't that be wonderful, Akari? Knowing that it's not just the two of us anymore."

She whispers. "We were perfectly fine before, Usagi." Before opening her bedroom door and locking herself in her enclosed solace.

* * *

They never spoke again until later that evening.

Akari was sitting on the couch, watching TV with indifferent eyes.

Usagi has her luggage packed and at the door. He hand grips the doorknob shakily. She turns to look at Akari one last time. "No, we weren't. Goodbye, Akari."

She leaves.

And there Akari was left in the silence of the TV in the living room. She says out loud, "Leaving was completely optional."

* * *

Later that night, Akari makes a call as she stands before her mirror, looking at her sad, sad state.

"Hello? I've come to a decision. You were right, Munakata."

* * *

A/N: The suspense is killing me. Hello, dear readers. This weekend has been great for me. I passed two of Manila's best universities and I apparently am confused about where to go. Wish me luck? Anyways, reviews do make me feel happy, so read and review. *big smile*


	9. monkey mouth

**Cancerous**

A/N: One lesson I've learned while writing this is that I write too much drama and too little of romance or comedy, so I hope this chapter makes up for the lack of light subject (since when was cancer light, anyway?)

* * *

"I know what you're going to say, so don't. You'll be wasting your breath."

Those words escape her mouth the moment she opens the office door. Akari glares as her pseudo-partner in crime.

He says, "I feel sorry for you."

She shrugs. "Everyone does, apparently."

He quirks an eyebrow. "She left?"

"I told her, but I didn't force her. It was out of line, out of rage I guess."

"She's young, she's smart; she knows what to do."

She steps forward, reaching his desk. "HOMURA? Honestly? Don't take this lightly."

He smirks. "What's the worse that could happen?"

Akari motions her arms outward for dramatic effect. "She reveals all and everything."

"She doesn't know anything." He's sure of it.

She jabs a finger to his face. "Then you don't know anything either. I practically raised her, Munakata."

"She knows what's best if she does," He stands up from his seat and eyes her critically, "Something that you ought to know."

She mocks him, "What? To keep my mouth shut and my words brief? What am I, the Prime Minister?" She laughs bitterly.

He bites his lips to form a strict line. "That nothing to joke about."

She strikes a pose, cocky and commanding, one foot ahead of the other. "Who says I am joking? Even the high-and-honorable Prime Minister's your lackey—" She smirks. "Isn't that playing against the rules?"

"I—we are the rules."

She cocks her head to a side. "Oh really now?" She starts walks towards him, slow in her pace. "Then I guess I'd have to break some rules around here to put you in your place."

He crosses his arms over his chest and moves to stand in front of his desk. "What makes you think you can?"

She takes the entire situation to her advantage. "You hate being out of order, don't you?" She's always had this plan in mind, "Then I'll just cause some havoc and get the people to see what's really making their lives hell."

He walks forward. "Shizume City is practically a utopia, subtract those gangs—"

She walks forward as well. "Like HOMURA?"

They meet in the middle and she's not having a hard time standing toe-to-toe with him.

He doesn't flinch. "Yes, like them, and this would be the perfect place to live in."

She frowns at his character. "I'm talking to you as Akari, you should respond as yourself—" She stops and tests his name, "Reisi."

He can't say it makes him feel strange, young. "It sounds different when you say it, fine."

She thinks he's aroused by it, and responds flirtatiously, "Don't expect it to always."

He coughs, clears his throat, and takes a step back."What do you want this time?"

She sighs, dropping her shoulders. "You were right. Yes, you were absolutely right that I'd end up alone and eventually conclude that my existence in this world is nothing but a nuisance and that I should just kill myself."

He gives her latter proposal the last time they met, "—or migrate to Europe, savoring all the wine and beer in the continent."

She replies innocently, "I don't have money."

He rolls his eyes. "We've let you launder and keep as much a twenty million yen in the past three years."

"You know," She steps forward, bringing a mere inch in-between their toes. "You could be my best friend, but that would mean dancing on a double-edged sword."

He is quick to respond. "I'd never see myself as a companion of a woman like yourself."

She replies as well, "I'd never see myself drink tea and form puzzles all the time."

He looks past her and to the slightly opened door. "It relaxes me."

"As if you were tired from the start."

He gets suspicious, if not annoyed by the creak in the door. "I don't much sleep at night."

She smirks, and plays with his head, "Having wet dreams again? I swear, you are one sick man to even dream of—"

He plays along with her, and mutters, "Of you."

If she was drinking water, she'd choke to her death. She looks mortified. "Excuse me?"

He takes it as she didn't hear him. "Nightmares have been keeping me awake for the past days."

Her face flushes. "I knew you were trying to—! But why not your lieutenant?" She gives a sly chuckle. "Isn't she quite a body.."

He brushes it off. "Too much, and I assume she's been with HOMURA's second-in-command for quite some time now."

She feels saddened a bit by what he said, and hopes the bartender isn't giving her second-class drinks at a first-class price. She retaliates solely for herself, she thinks, and says, "Doubt it, she's with someone else."

He clears his throat. "Anyhow, what is it you need of me? You've stalled enough time already."

She smirks. "The plan is to be set in motion tomorrow."

He nods, holding a hand up for her. "Very well. It's always nice working with you, Miss Akari."

She holds his hand and swears she can feel electricity surge through her. "Hm, I bet not as nice as when you're dreaming of me, Munakata."

"Gh—"

She leans in and whispers, all the while trying to prevent herself from laughing loudly, "Don't worry, I have ones with you too."

* * *

Usagi pats the older man's shoulder. "No, no, Totsuka-san, I know all your names already. No need for repeat. Thank you though, for really welcoming me here."

He gives her a kind smile. "You're part of HOMURA's family now, don't be shy."

She nods, watching him go to the others to share something with. "I'll try not to."

She takes a seat on the bar and hears a voice. "Gin?"

She replies, declining the offered beverage. "I don't drink."

He almost sighs and offers her a cigarette. "That's a relief."

She denies it too. "Or smoke."

"More for me, then." He lights one for himself and takes a drag.

She decides to ask, "You know, I keep wondering, how did Misaki—" She thinks his name is a girl's name and settles for his surname. "—Yata ever call you and Akari as boyfriend-girlfriend?"

He mutters. "She hacked into my phone."

She understands, giving a consoling smile. "She got your number? She does that to some people, it's perfectly normal."

He mutters again, feeling angry and fearful. "She threatened to make the bar explode if I didn't bring her alcohol."

Hikaru's almost surprised. Akari never did this. "She took you on a date? That's—sweet of her."

He takes a drag. "She hasn't even paid for anything."

She shrugs. "She does that, and suddenly a bag of cash appears at your door, she's paid."

"It's unorthodox and it's annoying me."

"That's how she shows her love."

"Her love?" He takes a long drag, hoping to clear it from his head. "Don't make me puke."

"Has she ever told you that she does?"

"She—didn't." He's actually thankful.

Hikaru deflates. "Oh, that's sad. I hope she does."

"Why?"

She smiles. "She hasn't been this attracted to anyone in two years."

He decides that there's no harm in asking. "What happened?"

"Typical story, except it involved a lot of things regarding neo-tradition and the Yakuza."

He thinks of the greens, the violent neo-samurai, and the violets, the secretive neo-shinobi. "I won't even ask."

"She was devastated."

He gives it a woman's term, "Heartbroken."

She doesn't like his low look on Akari. "Looked more like she was about to blow the whole place up."

He thinks she took it literally. "She had bombs in there?"

"She installs it in every location that she's grown accustomed to."

He almost chokes on his own smoke. "Don't tell me she's got—"

Hikaru knows because Akari tells her. "I'm surprised she doesn't. She likes this place too much, I guess, maybe she likes you." She gives him a smirk.

Yata bursts through the door, loud and bellowing, "Oi, Kusanagi-san! What's up?"

Izumo sees when Yata's bat barely evades Hikaru's shoulder. "You know, Yata, you should apologize to her." He points to Hikaru.

"Who?"

"Hikaru."

"Why?"

She answers for him, channeling Akari, "Because you're rude, and it's no wonder that Akari called you a 'cherry boy'."

He retaliates. "You don't know a thing about me!"

She smirks. "You're rude, that's what I know."

"I'd never hit a girl."

She stares at him mockingly. "I never thought you could, punk."

He stares right back at her, and she swear she thinks she might die in a fire. "This isn't the last of it."

She excuses herself, "Good. Now if you'll excuse me—"

His hand on her forearm stops her, he says sincerely, "But, hey, I'm sorry for what happened between the two of you."

She coughs, and pulls her arm away. "No need to, but thanks." And takes her leave with a small 'goodbye' and a wave of the hand.

* * *

She pushes him. "Hey, I know you're sexually deprived, but I don't see how this is going to help either of us."

He pushes her back. "It won't."

She states confidently, "Then you're just a sick and sad man crawling over to the nearest thing that looks like salvation. Sorry, but I'm not the one you're looking for."

He replies, "Who said I was?"

She rolls her eyes. "You did of course, who else would you listen to?"

He pauses for a moment. "You."

She gives a mock face of flattery. "That's sweet, now what?"

He asks. "How much do you want?"

She cracks a grin. "Who do you want?"

He rolls his eyes, obviously not impressed. "You?"

"You couldn't have me for the world." But he can, and that's the irony of it.

He eyes her. "You look nice in blue."

She rolls her eyes, as well as her shirt, revealing a green tank top. "As well as green."

He decides to play. "What are you wearing?"

She scoffs. "Are you blind?"

He doesn't lose eye contact. "No."

She smirks. "Nothing."

His face doesn't flush as much as he thought it would. "Disgusting."

She gives a wider grin. "Kinky's the term."

He steps back until his back reaches the wall. "Get away from me."

She frowns, stepping forward until he's within arm's reach. "And now even you're pushing me away, Munakata."

He thinks the way their names sound alike was done on purpose. "It's just the way we are, Mayonaka."

She deadpans. "You know this means that I'm going to set this place to explode in thirty seconds."

He smirks, telling an innuendo. "You can't even get out of my office."

She gives a term for what she is and a time. "Kamikaze. One minute."

"Really?"

She nods. "I'll jump through the window."

"You'll break your leg if you do."

She gives a thing she's learned and an extended time, as well as a jeer, "Parkour. Five minutes. That's not enough to save your database."

He doesn't believe her. "I even doubt that you've got explosives installed in the building's mainframe."

No one does. She sighs. "You're right. I don't like this place enough to blow it to smithereens."

* * *

Later that night, Akari defuses the three bomb set deep within SCEPTER4's base' walls via satellite remote and disables the connection and wiring permanently.

She lies awake in bed, heaving. She sighs, but suddenly smirks.

She could always fight fire with fire.

* * *

A/N: This might be the crappiest I've ever written, I dunno. I don't back check on previous chapters unless I need to. Review? I need reviews now. Reviews = motivation. Won't update until I get 30, so yeah. Review, review, review! *big smile*


	10. jack mack

Cancerous

A/N: The two girls with enough badassery to overthrow the Kings are Akari and Akane. This is mostly a filler scene, but it'll make sense of Akari's thoughts on Izumo (and something about SCEPTER4's intentions towards Akari).

Disclaimer: _Black Heartrest_ owns Akane. Akari's mine as well as all of the non-canon/unfamiliar names and places. The rest of the characters aren't owned by either of us.

* * *

"I don't need his help."

Akari stares at herself in the mirror. She's gotten out of bed from a sad attempt at sleeping in early.

"He's a King, Akari. What the hell has gotten into you? He's a King."

She locks her apartment door and scolds herself.

"Fight fire with fire, what the hell. It'll be more like—fight fire and you'll get burned either way."

It's seven in the evening and she thinks to visit Club Nights and earn some decent amount of money.

"Fight fire with fire. I can't even fight lightning with electricity."

She leaves with a frown on her face, driving her bike to the nightclub.

* * *

Blonde hair fixed in two elegant ponytails. "7:45PM. Outside Club Nights. Dressed up as a civilian."

Determined eyes stare at the neon sign, "CLUB NiGHTS" was written in bold, yellow letters. "7:46PM. Making my way towards Club Nights. A long line of civilians is waiting near the entrance."

She brushes her red dress. "7:48PM. Guards have allowed me entry. Additional note: Smile."

"Special note: Night-vision is essential when raiding dim clubs."

She takes a sip. "7:50PM. Drinking a metropolitan at the VIP bar. I suspect it to have hallucinatory drugs and ecstasy."

She sighs and stands up. "7:57PM. Turned down three men and one woman. Additional note: Wear a trench coat instead of a cocktail dress next time."

She makes her way from the bar. "8PM. Mission proper starts. Making my way towards the club's main hall."

She moves into a more secluded spot away from the loud, crowded dance floor. "Special note: The DJ plays repetitive music with little addition. I suspect her to be using Audiomatic 6.5."

She nods. "Additional note: She is, but with hacked plug-ins."

She walks towards the main podium that's decked in neon yellow, green, red, and blue. "8:21PM. Making my way towards the Nights' main DJ podium. No guards have been stationed inside the building."

She shoves past dancing individuals. "Special note: Missions have to follow through the work week. Weekends are impractical."

"8:23—"

Her target shouts into the microphone, turning the electro-pop music into a punk-rock cover. "Well, isn't this a surprise everyone? We've got a new face around here!"

She lowers her hand from her ear-mic. She whispers, "Cover blown. Shit."

* * *

Akari eyes the unfamiliar face strapped to her chair. They're inside her pseudo-office. "So, little miss SCEPTER4." Akari notices the logo carved into the case of this girl's PDA. "What brings you to this majestic haven of mine?"

Her purple eyes stare into Akari murderously. "You're under arrest."

Akari chuckles. "What makes you think you can do that?"

"You've been laundering money from the government treasury and putting it in your bank accounts."

Akari tests this girl's wit. "How many?"

"All five of them."

Akari smirks. "Correction. Thirteen." She thinks SCEPTER4's database has been messed up. "Geez, and I thought I was bad."

The girl exclaims, "Excuse me?"

Akari pats the girl's bare shoulder. "Look sweetheart, girl, your boss has been up my neck since I first set a bomb to explode five years ago."

She shouts, "Criminal!"

Akari leans back, and nods, "But we're on good terms now, I play by his rules and I'm good as gone."

"Rot in jail!"

Akari sighs, this girl is some real work. "Really? You're going to give me that?"

She struggles through the bonds on the wrist and ankles. "Release me!"

Akari can't handle a whining girl right now, so she thinks of a proposition. "How's about this, I treat you to a couple of drinks and you drop charges on me. Sounds good, right?"

The girl pauses and looks her straight in the eye. "You have three hours."

* * *

They're seated in a private booth in the VIP bar. By the girl's third glass, and second story, the tension between them has lessened. "And then—wham! He ran into the glass and damn was it hilarious."

Akari takes a sip of her Bloody Mary. "You know, we've got lots of things in common."

The girl doesn't let up. "Like what, huh criminal?"

"Name's Akari."

The girl gives her full name, "Watanabe Akane. So?"

"We both drink."

Akane snobs her off, "Lots of people drink, if you haven't noticed."

Akari doesn't like Akane's high-class appeal, with her Paulista and her Red Carpet. "You've got keen observation skills, like me."

Akane eyes her suspiciously. "Prove it."

"Alright. Who do you want me to read?"

"Me."

Akari lowers her drink. She knows she's see Akane's profile from their database. "Lemme see. You're 24, older than me. You hate the color blue. You hate this club because of repetitive music. You went here alone and on your own initiative. Judging by the way you sit, I'd say you'd rather come in here with a trench coat than a cocktail dress." Akari adds this, "And—you're in love with your boss."

Akane blushes and looks away to her drink. "Liar."

Akari smirks, she's right. "No, really. What do you see in that block of ice, anyway?"

"He's not a block of ice! Don't insult him so casually."

She laughs. "He is and you defending that fact is a sign that you're obviously enamored with him."

Akaned downs a third of her Paulista. "I'm not."

Akari knows this. "Did he tell you to come here? I don't think so. He's not the type to let his pawns go on alone."

"I'm not his pawn."

"Then what are you? His queen?"

Akaen bites her lip. "…don't—"

Akari raises a hand in defense. "Then he's not a block of ice. He's a stick in the mud, if you'd prefer that."

"Why do you hate him so much?"

Akari plays with her. "I don't hate him. Not at all. In fact, I think I love him."

Akane shrugs it off. "Hm."

"Got you all tense, huh? Makes you want to slap me in the face, right?"

She closes her eyes. "Not really, no."

Akari leans in. "Then I'll tell you this—he loves me."

She acts indifference. "Who does?"

Akari says clearly and slowly, "Your boss. That stick in the mud. He adores me."

"How can you say that?"

Akari smirks, planning to get Akane as uncomfortable as possible. "He's having dreams about me, and I tell you, it's not all chains and warrants."

Akane thinks of all the wrong (but apparently right) things. "Oh my go—"

"Don't worry. He doesn't go public about them. He's a closeted sadist."

Akane coughs. "Can you stop? Just, please, stop."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"The thought of him—"

Akari feigns sympathy and leans back. "I know. It's extremely disturbing."

Akane straightens up and stares at Akari expectantly, she's seen through the "dirty mind" tactic. "But you're lying."

"I'm not."

"I haven't heard you say his name."

Akari stops, then says, "Munakata."

Akane smirks. "His first name."

"What's so important about that?"

"Just say his name."

Akari stops again, then speaks, "Reisi."

She nods. "I see."

"What?"

"You don't love him and neither does he love you."

Akari would congratulate Akane. "So you've seen through it, huh?"

She sighs. "Obvious lies."

"Took you long enough."

There was a bout of silence as they sip their drinks.

Akari doesn't like the silence, the hazy atmosphere of the VIP bar is uncomfortable enough, even with the jazz band. "So what now?"

Akane hypothesizes, "You've got someone else on your mind."

She raises a brow. "Well, miss detective, why don't you tell me who it is?"

Akane doesn't like the way Akari's breath is heavy on alcohol. "I have a feeling it has something to do with alcohol. The stench in your breath gives away the fact that you're alcoholic."

"I love my alcohol."

"Love your alcohol, huh?"

"So tell me, who's the lucky man on my mind?"

Akane takes a long look at her. Akari's hair has been dyed black, but the jagged, obviously uneven cut remains the same. Her clothing has remained as well, with bright colors layered on top of each other. Akari leans back in her seat, and slouches. "Telling by the way you move, speak, dress, and drink—you're a soft kind of masochist. You aren't the type to do sweet words or expensive flowers or imported chocolate. You're more of a crazy, club-hopping, bar-wrecking mess. You like your alcohol strong, and your hangovers alone."

She smiles. "Right-on."

"As for your men—I can see something about abuse. You've been hurt, badly damaged mentally. You've lost your sense of control and you just let whatever flow through you."

Akari knows it's true, even with—nevemind."And?"

Akane clears her throat and lowers her voice. "You haven't had sex in weeks."

She feels embarrassed a little. "Wow. You can tell?"

Akane rolls he eyes. "You've been ogling men since the past hour."

"As if you haven't."

She notices Akari's glances at the bar. "You like your bartenders, huh?"

She notices Akane's look at the guards posted by the entrance. "You like my bouncers."

"Smooth-talking, lazy-staring bartenders."

"Rough-handling, sexy-smirking bouncers."

"Those who look dead-sexy in shades?"

Akari got excited. "The ones with the malicious smiles?"

"I got it."

"Damn. Well, who is it?"

"I have a feeling it's your bartender. The one who works in the VIP bar."

"Musouko? The one in black and white and has a lock of yellow in his hair?"

She nods. "That's the one."

Akari prevents a laugh. "He's gay."

"But you like him."

She shrugs. "I did. Before. Three years ago. I kissed him just before he confessed that he was gay."

"You aren't lying, are you?"

"I'd be lengthening my story if I was."

Akane hates this feeling. "So I'm wrong."

Akari rolls her eyes. "Ain't got sympathy for the heartbroken, do you? Hypocrite."

She defends herself. "I'm not. I'm guessing who it is."

Akari gives up. "Then here's to lessen your effort. He's in HOMURA."

Akane's angrier with herself than she is shocked. "No."

Akari tips her glass to Akane. "Oh yes. Cheers."

They toast, and Akane whispers, thinking she might hurt Akari's feelings. "He's going out with Awashima-san."

Akari knows that isn't true. "She's with someone else, but the guy's still in HOMURA. If you haven't noticed, she's going easy on him."

Akane connects names and events, faces and voices. He jaw drops open. "She's… but he's her—"

Akari thinks she's finally gotten it. "Oh yes. It even makes for an even more complicated love story. She likes her boys hot and on fire—literally."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

Akane doesn't smoke. "That smoker?"

"Haven't even paid him for a single thing, and he lets me."

Akane raises her brow incredulously. "You love him for that?"

"I love him for everything."

Her shoulders fall. "Really."

"Well, mostly for the drinks me makes, and the bottles he gives me."

"Wow. Never thought he'd be that thoughtful."

"He isn't. Unless I force him to, and that's another thing I like about him."

"You're really weird, you know that?"

Akari's smile grows with each word. "He calls me a liar, insane, crazy."

"Then I guess he must be right."

Akari closes her eyes and breathe out. "I think he's finally in love with me."

"Can't say he is."

"No one's stood with me for that long."

Akane shrugs. "Well, he might."

"Says the one who's broke her own heart."

"What?"

In one sentence, Akari doesn't like Reisi in a way most people would think. "You're in love with a complete block of ice. He's cold when he wants to be and he's cold even he doesn't want to be."

"He's straightforward."

"To a fault. He'll insult you just like that and expect you to follow him around."

"How do you know that?"

Akari honestly wants to be rid of him, but he's too fun to leave alone. "I've been working with him, if you've forgotten. All I need to do is to play by his rules and then I'm free to go."

"He's a user."

Akari knows this. "He might use you, take advantage of that poor heart of yours and then rip it right in front of you after he takes your breath away."

"He hasn't."

"Not yet."

"I trust him."

"He only trusts himself."

"Then I'll make him learn."

Akari blinks twice before saying. "You're really eager, aren't you?"

Akane sighs and stares into her glass. "He's just so alone."

"Maybe that's how he likes it."

Akane uses Akari's words and looks up at her. "Says the one who's going to get burned in the end."

"I'm a masochist, what can I say? He's bound to love me."

"What if he doesn't?"

"He will. They always do." They always leave as well—Akari thinks.

"I don't believe you."

"Neither does he, but I guess it's just hesitation."

Akane has a silent prayer for her. "I hope it is." She downs the rest of her drink and stands up.

Akari lifts her drink to Akane. "Good luck on your quest to melt that block of ice."

"Thank you."

"I'll lend you a flamethrower, if you'd like."

She thinks about love and care and sympathy. "No thanks. I've got all the firepower I need."

"I've got a gallon of gasoline and a spare lighter just in case."

"You're going to need the lighter. It's your bartender's birthday in a couple of weeks."

Akari grins. "I know. I hack into SCEPTER4's database every so often."

"Give him a lighter."

"I plan to set his apartment on fire."

"Oh, the irony."

Akari lifts her hand to Akane. "Nice meeting you, Akane."

They shake hands. "You too, Akari."

They're friends now. "You're not going to arrest me, are you?"

"I haven't got his approval, yet."

Akane leaves with a smile on her face and a phone with three unread messages and two unanswered calls.

Akari downs the rest of her drink.

* * *

_"I'm sorry, alright? She's absolutely crazy. I can't get it out of her, but I have another thing that I suppose you'd like to hear."_

* * *

It's five in the morning and Akari is woken up by the sound of her phone ringing.

"Good morning to you, too. Dreamt of me? Oh… But—? Really? Sounds awful. I'm joking. Yes, I know.. Fine."

She proceeds to sleep the rest of the morning.

* * *

A/N: Review? Hey, I can see all of you guys, and I want to know what you really think about this story. Please? *gives a big smile*


	11. juice card

Cancerous

A/N: So the story isn't moving along as I planned. I think I'm better at making character studies than writing actual stories. But it'll be all good in the end—at least, I'll try to.

* * *

"I knew I shouldn't have taken that—"

Akari vomits into the toilet bowl. She's slumped against the cold ceramic and her hands clutch at her stomach.

She looks around after she vomits a second time. No one's there. "She's right. I do have my hangovers alone, but doesn't mean I like it."

She vomits a third time before standing up. She flushes the toilet and all of it's wasted contents (and her melancholy) away.

She washes her face and looks at herself in the mirror before opening the medicine cabinet. "Another day, another aspirin or two."

She takes two from the bottle and swallows one after the other.

* * *

It's eleven in the morning. She walks around the high-end district and spots a familiar face.

He talks before she even stops in her tracks, his voice heavy with disappointment, "I never thought I'd see you again."

She stops and looks down with a sarcastic smile. "It's nice to see you too, bartender."

He's smoking as usual. "Feeling's not mutual."

She looks back up at him. "What brings you to places outside that pub?"

He inhales and exhales a puff of smoke. "Day off."

She gives herself a congratulatory smile. "You're missing me too much, aren't you?"

"No. I don't."

"Then why are you following me?"

"This is HOMURA's territory."

Oh, she realizes that a bit too late. HOMURA's everywhere all of a sudden. "And you said it was your day off."

"I spend my days off around town."

"What do you do?"

He sighs. "Am I supposed to tell you?"

She shrugs. "You're obliged to."

He walks away. "Goodbye."

"Wait!" She catches him by his forearm; she notices how warm his sleeve is.

"What?"

She bites her upper lip in hesitation. "Let me take you out."

He answers faster than she can think. "No."

"Why?"

He remembers the 18th. "You harassed me the last time."

Today's the 29th; it's been more than a week since and she realizes that she's been alone for half a month already. "I did?"

She removes her hand from his arm. He nods. "You did."

She is taken aback. Her voice turns into a guilty whisper, "Oh. I haven't apologized?"

He proceeds to walk away, again. "You had your chance."

She catches up to his pace and is now walking beside him. She doesn't completely understand why she hesitates. "Give me one last. Let me take you out."

He takes a quick drag. "No."

"Why not?"

He knows this and he doesn't bother with her feelings. "Because you're insane and I doubt that you'd at least have some sincerity, plus you haven't paid me anything."

"How much do I owe you?"

"Around four-thousand five-hundred."

"That much?"

"Service charge not included."

"How much is that?"

He gives her that because he thinks he needs something to at least compensate for her troubles. "A thousand."

"So that's how it is." She tugs on his sleeve with a hand. They stop walking. "Please, I'll take you out somewhere nice, somewhere decent. Let's talk things over and then I can pay you in cash."

He sighs and takes in a long drag. "Where do you plan to go?"

She chuckles. "No idea. But meet me outside my building at around seven."

"Where? Tonight?"

"I have your number. See you there." She runs off and turns into an alley not to far from their location.

He rolls his eyes and thinks that he should've just declined. She definitely wasn't a woman that you'd want to eat out with. "Yeah."

* * *

If he would compare that mess of a lunatic with the elegant woman in front of him—he wouldn't even need a point of comparison.

"Really, if you're so annoyed with her, why don't you just tell her?"

He pours her a drink and serves her sweetened yellow bean paste. "I did. She won't let up."

She takes a sip. "At all?"

"At all."

The woman almost laughs at him. "Seems like you've got a real case on your hands."

He looks at her. "Will you help me?"

And she looks at him. "How?"

"Tell her that you're my girlfriend."

She looks back down on her drink. "No."

"Why not?"

"You want to lie?"

He's exasperated. "She's been lying to me the entire time!"

She knows who he's talking about, they've had lunches and a few pseudo-missions together before. "She's—confused. She has walls around her."

He is quick to deny it. "No, she doesn't."

"How can you tell?"

He admits it. "I've been comparing her to you."

The woman stares plainly into the glass and contemplates for a little while. "I don't know if that's an insult or a compliment."

He doesn't want to insult her too much. "She's really—strange."

She gives him a small smile. "Then be strange for her. I'm guessing that she likes the normalcy from you."

And he misses those smiles of hers. "Are you saying that I'm too plain, Seri-chan?"

She coughs. Her lips form a thin line before she speaks. "Like that. Be strange. Be annoying."

He feels disheartened. "You don't mean that, do you?"

She remembers. "I do. It's one of the reasons why we—"

As much as he wants to forget, he can't. "I know. Do you ever want to go back to the times when everything was just fine?"

She leaves a particularly large tip on the bar counter after she downs the rest of her drink. "When were we ever fine?"

She leaves him smirking at her in a moment of nostalgia. "You're right. Thank you, Seri-chan."

She looks back at him, her face strict and cold. "Don't call me so familiarly. I thought we agreed on a barrier between us."

"It's low enough for me to call you a friend."

"Goodbye."

She leaves the bean paste untouched.

* * *

He's the one to call her this time, the first and the last. He's waiting outside a tall condominium. He remarks how the neon signs and bright lights seem to make the shopping district look more like the Red Light district. "Yo."

Her voice is coarse. "Hello?"

"It's seven-fifteen."

He can imagine her awful smirk as she hums before replying, "I know."

He thinks she's sick. "Are you alright?"

Her laugh sounds cracked and forced. "I don't know."

He sighs inwardly. "Do you want me to come up there?"

"Twenty-fourth floor. Door five."

He thinks of buying from the pharmacy across the street. "Would you want me to bring you anything?"

"No." She cuts off the call for what seems to be the first and the last time.

* * *

He first sees the wide open door before the metal "5" on it. "You left your door open."

Her reply sounds more annoyed that amused, he thinks. "I know."

"Someone could have barged in and—"

"You barged in."

He fully enters her apartment, taking in the surprisingly neat appearance of her living area, kitchen, and dining area. "I knocked. Twice."

She didn't hear it. "You never said hello."

"Was I supposed to?"

She frowns. "I thought we were friends."

He sees her sitting across an armchair, her head and legs dangling. Her back was to him and she's wearing the same kind of dress, the one that hikes much above her knees. It was purple and it's way past her knees as her feet are propped on the armrest. "We aren't."

She smiles widely. "You being here contradicts that."

"I just came for what you owe me."

She looks at him this time with a lazy grin on her face. "How much do I owe you again?"

"A grand total of five-thousand five-hundred."

She points to the kitchen area. "There's ten thousand in the envelope on the kitchen island. Take it."

He walks over to the island and sees the opened envelope. He doesn't move to touch it. "Where did you get it?"

She waves her arm. "Doesn't matter. It's all yours." She reveals an open bottle of vodka beside the armchair and takes a drink straight from the bottle. "Feel free to leave."

"Where have you been?"

She lowers the bottle to the coffee table. "Why do you suddenly care?"

He thinks that he'll act as her drug mule this time. "I need to know if these bills have amphetamine or whatever drug you smuggle around."

"They don't."

He doesn't know another term for her other job. "Were you—pimping?"

"Business was slow for the past few months. I got kicked out of the ring." She takes another swing.

He's more relieved at the thought. "That's a surprise."

She sounds shocked at herself, "I know. I worked magic before."

"I doubt that you'd be able to kill anyone, so this isn't blood money."

She swings her legs to the front and stands up, craning her neck to look at him. "How can you be so sure?"

"You carry a fake gun around."

She walks over to him barefooted and stops short of his feet. "What make you so sure that it isn't real?"

He wipes his palm across his face in annoyance. "It doesn't have any bullets."

She pulls out a drawer on the island, and reveals several types of handguns. "Pick one."

He says under his breath, "You must be crazy—"

"Pick one, just one."

"Fine." He points to a revolver.

She smirks as she picks up the gun. "Good choice." And aims the gun to her head.

"What are you—No!"

_*click*_

He pushes her arm away before she can pull the trigger.

His hand is encasing her wrist and holds it above her head, there's barely enough space for him to breathe without choking in her scent. She remarks, sounding disappointed, "No bullet. Pick another one."

He releases her, stepping back. "What are you playing at?"

"Russian roulette, have you played that before?"

"I don't plan to."

She hands him the gun. "Too bad, it's your turn."

He shakes his head. "No."

She rotates the gun in her hand so that it's aimed at him. "Then I'll just have to do it for you."

He knows she can't do this. "You can't be serious." He looks straight into the barrel.

_*click*_

She lowers the gun to her side. "Oh. It's your lucky day."

He stares straight into her. "Just stop. Please."

She looks past him. "Why?"

He steps forward and takes her wrist. "You're—" He takes the gun from her hand and stuffs it into the drawer. He opens his mouth to try and talk some sense into her, but— "Oh forget it. You're absolutely crazy." He lets her wrist fall from his grasp. "I don't know why I even agreed to this in the first place."

"Don't you want to know where the money came from?"

He moves away from her and to his coat that's draped on a dining chair. "I don't even care about the money anymore. I'm leaving."

She's pushing all the wrong buttons. "It's from SCEPTER4."

"I don't care."

She steps towards him. "They want me to annihilate HOMURA."

"I can't see why they chose you."

"Oh, you will soon enough."

He stops halfway out the door. "Stop lying."

"I'm not lying."

He doesn't care if his words hurt her, that lunatic is incapable of hurting. "I've never believed you."

"I'm putting my trust into you."

He finds himself stalking back to her, his voice gaining volume with each step he takes. "Trust? Really? And then what? Don't tell me you're actually already part of SCEPTER4 and you're trying to destroy HOMURA from the inside?"

She simply replies with a smirk on her face. "No."

"You think I'm the easy way in, don't you?"

She shrugs. "I used to."

He sighs. "You're crazy." And moves to the open window in the living area. He fishes a cigarette and his lighter from his breastpocket.

She replies as he lights himself a smoke, "Can't say that isn't true."

He mutters. "Nothing about you is."

She frowns. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"I do."

She thinks it's finally time for this. "Would you really want to hear the truth? The real, undeniable, inconceivable truth?"

He rolls his eyes. "Why the hell not?"

She walks towards him, and stops beside him. She leans her side to the wall. "The truth is, SCEPTER4's been up my ass since I first managed a bomb into one of the city's most prominent establishments. I meant that figuratively, not really up my ass as in—"

"Yes, I know."

"That was eight years ago. I was fifteen and the heir of the Yakuza's Shizume City branch."

"You got caught."

"Imprisoned for three days. Someone bailed me out, and the Yakuza disappeared."

He doesn't feel sorry for her. "Left to fend for yourself, huh?"

She doesn't mention his name because she loves the sense of ambiguity. "For a couple of days, until I met him." She remembers colors of green and brown and gold, and vague promises of infinite happiness.

He thinks it's Munakata. "I won't even ask."

She knows he's wrong. "Thank you."

"So?"

She sighs, motioning her hand in a circle. "Long story short, SCEPTER4 wants your king dead."

She's crazy and he knows it as well as he knows the back of his palm. "I don't know how that connects with you."

"You said you didn't want to hear it."

He wants to get mat at her and force the truth out of her. "Now I do."

She tells him, keeping it as short and as believable as possible. "I was trained to be a hacker, so I hacked. I still had enough money to push into school, but I needed more to pursue a degree in medicine. The Silver Trade was been a good source for everything I'd ever need. The Shizume Underground has all the people you'll ever need to climb the ladder to success without even lifting a foot. I was young; I was seventeen when I knew about the debts. I had no choice but to get to the government."

So that's why. "So you hacked into their systems."

"I did. Lots of times. Now SCEPTER4's doubling across my back ever since. It's quite comforting, really." She gives a wide smirk and a joking undertone, emphasizing the last word, "Who knew he'd be so possessive?"

He takes in a long drag. "I still don't get it."

"He knew I needed his help and now he wants something in return." She's been working with Munakata for the past four years now. "He always does."

"I never knew SCEPTER4 would work with the likes of you."

"You have no idea of the kind of people I work with." She doesn't mention or MASANORI or SCEPTER4 or the Silver Trade, or any other name. "Anyway, he provides me with enough money and protection, and I play by his rules, give him what he wants."

"And what does he want?"

"To create utopia. He wants to get rid of all the street gangs in Shizume City."

"You know that's impossible."

She shakes her head. "He wants to start with HOMURA."

He's always known that. "Of course, so what's your part in his grand scheme?"

"If it's his chessboard, then I'd either be king or a pawn."

"What makes you think that?"

She remembers the man who promised her near-infinite happiness. "If I'm the king; even if I'm such a valuable piece, a piece is still just a piece, and you don't know whose piece I am." And she remembers her own words. "But if I'm the pawn, I can be a promoted to a queen on the other side, but I'd have to avoid dying first."

He takes in a brief smoke. "So what are you?"

She might be both, and she might be none of the pieces at all. "The wildcard. The joker. The pawn. The queen. The king. I'm everything if I want to be."

"So what do you want, really?"

"Really?"

He looks over to her. "Yes. Really."

She wants to run away from this, she honestly does. She gives him a sad smile. "I want out."

"Then leave."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I'm tired of running." She's always been running.

She loves him for his words, sharp like a syringe needle, but they give her what she needs. "You don't have to run. Just leave. For good if you want to."

"That sounds nice."

He decides to ask her after taking a smoke, "Where do you plan to go?"

"I told Munakata I'd escape to Europe to savor all the wine and all the beer in that continent."

He thinks he's right at this, and he turns to face her, "I think you've got enough money for that. You can even leave tomorrow."

She hesitates. "If I do, will you come with me?"

"Why?"

"Keep me company."

Yes, obviously—he knows that. "No, why me?"

She thinks he'll be able to stand her. "I like you."

He almost shudders when her hand clasps his arm. "Should I ask why?"

She laughs, placing her other hand on his shoulder. "No, but if you want to know, I can't tell you."

"Then don't. Sheesh."

She smirks, gripping tight, "I'll show you."

"Oi, get your hands off—!"

Her lips never meet his.

His lips never meet hers.

They meet in the middle, somewhat.

* * *

She sitting on one end of the sofa, and he's sitting on the other. There is enough space between them to fit two people. She smirks. "Would it be insane for me to call you after this, lover?"

He feels like his intestines are swirling. "Yes, and I'm not your lover."

"Am I welcome in your pub now?"

He takes a long, calming smoke, thankful that she's shut down the smoke detector in her apartment. "No."

"Oh, you'll just deliver me my drinks, will you, lover?"

"No, and stop calling me that."

She leans close to him. "Lover?"

"Yes."

She sounds shocked and hurt. "You don't love me?"

He pulls her away when her hands are on his leg. "I don't. You're drunk."

She raises her arms in the air. "Oh, you love me! Tell me you do and we'll get married and my name will be wiped clean off the record!"

"I have no intention of marrying you."

"Why?"

"You're a mess, that's all I can say."

She hums contentedly. "A hot mess."

He decides to tell her the truth, as if it won't hurt her. "No, a really disgusting kid of mess. You don't have color coordination. Your haircut's beyond the laws of fashion. You talk as if everything's going to bow down to you. And you make sense near to nothing."

And it doesn't. In fact to his horror, it might even encourage her. She replies confidently. "What if, what if I fix myself up? Go to a salon and fix my cut, wear red with brown and match all the colors with the seasons, and talk like someone who did graduate with a degree in medical psychology—would I make sense?"

"Yes, you would."

"Then you'll marry me?"

He shakes his head. "No. I still won't."

"And that's what I like about you the most! No commitment means no trust issues, and I've had my trouble of those."

He turns to look at her; a wide grin is plastered on her face—and no, she's not anything beautiful. "I didn't say anything about—"

She wheezes. "Yes. I know. Lighten up, why don't you? There's only two hours left on your day off."

He is mortified. "Don't tell me I spent it with you."

She chuckles. "You did, and isn't that ironic?"

* * *

It's almost midnight and he's left her with the briefest goodbyes.

"I'll see you around, then?"

"No, you won't, because I'll avoid you at all costs."

"You really don't know the range of my ability, do you?"

"Perhaps I don't want to know. Goodbye."

"Take care, lover."

He doesn't notice that he's left his scarf on the dining table. The envelope on the kitchen counter is left untouched. She thinks that she'll be the one to visit him the next time. She smiles.

But now she feels lonesomeness and the need to bother an unlucky soul. Her phone is set to her ear as she lies in bed.

_"Oi, Munakata, ever think about marrying me?"_

* * *

A/N: Aw, now it's getting sappy and only now do I realize that I'm leaving a bigger part of the picture for you to guess. (And I'm actually thinking, what if I end this here, right here?) Anyway, I feel the need to fully explain the gist of the story within the next chapter, but I'm pertaining to have a sense of ambiguity as I plan to write my first novel with this kind of writing/story flow.

Reviews remind me to keep on track with the established (secret) plot, so review? Please?


	12. dry snitching

Cancerous

A/N: I've been terribly busy lately (as well as being depressed as shit), so here I go. I don't need to explain, because I adore having a sense of ambiguity.

* * *

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She stares at him.

He stares back at her from his seat, his chin resting on his interlocked hands. "Yes. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

She shakes her head. "No. I don't."

"I don't believe you."

She shrugs and scoffs, "As if anyone believes me. This isn't something new," She syllabicates his name for sarcastic emphasis, "Munakata."

He uses her name, "Your antics are worsening, Mayonaka." And smirks, "I think I shouldn't have made a deal with you in the first place."

She sighs, he really is pushing her away, isn't he? "Again, this isn't something new for me. You want to leave?" She pauses and stares at him for a moment before deciding. "Fine. Leave."

"Wouldn't you want to know the answer?"

"To what?"

"Your question."

She nods. "I remember. I asked you about my future. You told me—"

He leans back on his chair. "Yes."

She shakes her head a little, dumbfounded. "What?"

He smirks. "You asked me. I said yes."

She says a little too loudly, "To what? I ask you about my future and you say yes." She chuckles in spite of herself. "And you told me I'm the brawn of this team."

He clears his throat. "Clearly, you've forgotten about last night."

She finds this greatly disturbing. She was drunk, but was she at that level of drunkenness to slur sexual fantasies? "Last night? Oh God, was I—were you—"

He gets it. "Thankfully it isn't either."

"Then what was it?"

"I'd rather not talk about it." He stands from his seat.

She doesn't sound eager, she sounds pressing. "Then show me."

He walks over to the front of his desk. "It's embarrassing, even if it's just you."

She feels quick anger. "What's wrong with me?"

It sounds almost like a hiss, like an insult. "Everything's wrong with you."

She rolls her eyes. "Geez. As if I needed you to point that out. So, here's the deal, don't show me. I don't like surprises that much. Just tell me."

"I have thought about marriage."

Oh, she knows where this is going. "Let me find a toilet to vomit it."

He takes a step forward. "I'd even thought about marrying you."

She takes a step back. "Seriously. I'm going to vomit."

He stops, and stares at her, almost reaching to touch her cheek, but he lowers it halfway. "I'd marry you."

She finds the entire situation quite ironic. She laughs at it. "My insides are churning. I need to vomit. Now."

He steps back, replying with a mock tone of respect, "As you wish, Miss Akari."

She retorts sharply, "Just shut the hell up, Munakata. I was drunk. You know how I am."

He hums pleasantly. "In vino veritas."

She's so annoyed by this. "Just. Just. Fuck you."

He smirks. "Wouldn't you rather do that yourself?"

She rushes out the door and slams it closed.

* * *

She meets the pretty blonde in the corridor. "Oi. Seri. Tell your boss that he is never going to see me ever again. Oh, and that I need forty-thousand yen."

Seri thinks of them as a quarrelling couple and finds this situation awkward, "Mayonaka-san. I understand that your—specific needs are…"

Akari shrugs it off. "Whatever. Money or not, I'm out."

Seri sighs and smiles when Akari leaves. "That's actually quite a relief." She thinks it's for the both of them.

She tells the closest person to her. "Follow her."

It was Fushimi Saruhiko. "What?"

Seri thinks of the possibl consequences given the fact that Akari is a trigger-pulled bomber. "Follow her. Make sure she doesn't do anything morally wrong."

He sighs and complains. "I heard you the first time, and when has she ever done something right?"

She stares at him coldly. "Follow her. Now."

"Yeah, yeah. But honestly, can't Akiyama do it?"

"No."

He makes his way with a shrug and a tired sigh.

* * *

They're on a train and it's just the two of them in the last cabin. Honestly—he thinks—why did she have to ride the last cabin? Is she some sort of sociopath planning to steal the train?

Which connects to the current situation;

She's sitting. "What are you looking at, boy?"

And for some reason, he's standing. "You, of course, what else could I be looking at?"

"I'm not in the mood to be ogled by adolescent teenagers."

"Good, neither am I, old lady."

"I ain't old."

"To me, you are."

"Then you might as well be a twelve-year-old that secretly has a stash of porn magazines."

He looks away. "Shut up."

She smirks at his. "Oh, I bet you do have a stash! What brands? Triple Threat? SmashX? Extatik?"

He grinds his teeth at her fake enthusiasm. "I don't have a stash."

"Then what do you jerk-off to?"

He feels violated by her terms. "Excuse me?"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Pretty boys like you tend to either have a girlfriend. I'm guessing you don't."

"I don't have time—"

"Or maybe a boyfriend."

He flushes. "I'm not gay."

"I didn't say you were. When I was nineteen, I've had about two women and three men."

He concludes his assumption that she's a basic whore. "You've been fucking everyone."

She's shocked and at the same time amused. "Not everyone, goodness, I don't lie around. Just with those who prove themselves worthy of my time."

He rolls his eyes. "I'm guessing that I'm not?"

"Where would you rather be, jailbait?"

He's old enough. "I'm nineteen."

"All the more cautious you should be. I've seen people like you sneak out of my neighbors' rooms."

He doesn't know why she's saying the strangest of things. "I'm not whoring myself."

She shrugs, feigning innocence. "Wasn't suggesting it."

"But hey, it's normal for people to—you know—do it." He means masturbating, not whoring.

She nods once. "I guess; if you're a bastard who works for a frozen stick in the mud."

He guesses that she loves him in a very unconventional way. "You really wanna fuck him, don't you?"

She doesn't. "Stop saying foul words, kid. It just shows how limited your vocabulary is."

He proves her wrong with a malicious smirk on his face. "You want to fuck, ravish, have sex with, make love to, fornicate with, copulate with, even get intimate with him."

She's starting to get uncomfortable because now he's leaning down on her. "You're actually smarter than you look."

He hisses. "You're just his whore."

She ignores this. "I prefer the term, pseudo-partner-in-crime."

"Whore either way. You're just using him."

She grins maliciously. "What else do you think is new?"

So he's right. "Does he know?"

"I'm assuming that he doesn't. It makes it all the more exciting."

He pauses, and then contemplates, "Who's going to get hurt in the end?"

"No one is."

He knows that it isn't true. Someone has to get hurt for something to come into fruition. "Liar."

"It won't be me." She wants this to be true.

He concludes. "Then it's him."

She grins. "Supposed that no one else interferes."

He thinks about all the other possibilities. "Are you saying that—"

She gives him an easy answer. "HOMURA wants me dead."

He knows about her cruel reputation. "Who doesn't?"

"I'm guessing your boss wants me alive." She hopes. Munakata might be the only thing that's within her reach for salvation.

There is a silence as the train passes inside a tunnel.

"So HOMURA…"

Akari knows this, "Your old gang's on the verge of what might be the thought of an all-out war."

"All-out?"

She decides to give him the gist of what's to happen. "This isn't just about HOMURA and SCEPTER4, kid, MASANORI and want in on this."

"What's the prize?"

Everyone wants a piece of the perfect society, even if his or her perception on a utopia is varied and violent. "It's a battle for Shizume city."

What about the other clans?—he think that chaos is abound. "Silver? Gold? Heck, is the Colorless clan even—"

She is thankful that there's only four and not seven. "I'm guessing they're the game-masters of this one."

He thinks she knows something. "What's going to happen next?"

"Something quite close to what happened in the Eighth Sector some decades back." All flashes of color and all elements of power converging into one supernova—at least, that's how she knows it.

He sees something else. He sees death and destruction, hopelessness and the loss of all humanity. "No,"

She thinks it's so ironic, her position. "And guess where I am."

"Where are you?"

She knows about him and his past. "In the middle of it all much like how you were before, but you chose a side. I won't."

The train doors open, and she stands up. He says to her as she walks toward the doors. "SCEPTER4's keeping an eye on you."

She smirks. "Make that eyes and ears, kid. Your boss' hands aren't enough."

He thinks of discarded clothes, broken glasses, and a creaking desk. He almost shudders. "Gross."

"See you around."

She walks away.

* * *

Usagi brushes past him, ignoring his question. "What are you asking?"

Yata doesn't stutter. "I'm asking you out. You know, since we're fellow clansmen and all, I thought it would be nice to get to know each other."

"I know enough about you already." She does, at least that's what she thinks.

He doesn't ask her on a date, more of a friendly chat. "Just, look, I'll take you some place nice."

She raises a brow. "Why?"

"Don't ask. I—"

Akari's taught her to be careful around men. "I need to know. Heck, you might be planning something behind my back."

He honestly just wants her to loosen up. "I'm not. We're not. We—I just want to make you feel a bit more welcome."

"Totsuka-san has done enough already."

He has noticed her staring at a photo of her and Akari too often. "You still stare at that picture."

"It's just. It's one of the few pictures we had together. This was winter last year; we spent it in Belgium."

He tries to sound friendly. "That's nice."

It doesn't end the way he intended. She sounds insulted and nostalgic, "It honestly isn't. In retrospect, I don't know why she wanted to travel so much. She can't stay for long in one place. Now, I think I know why."

He comments, "She's insane."

She agrees, but not completely. "She's been left on her own. The Yakuza were always moving, moving from place to place, country-to-country, underground hideout to a high-rise skyscraper. They can't stay. Maybe it stuck to her."

"That much? She must've had a rough childhood."

"I doubt that she even had one, but she says –err, said—she did."

"What was it like?"

She smiles a little, albeit a sad smile. "From what I remember, it was all guns and bombs and drugs and plane tickets and driving at eighty miles an hour. There were only a few times where she actually had real, gut-wrecking fun."

She's an arsonist! And he sounds ecstatic,"Like what? Setting someone's house on fire?"

She laughs and he feels relieved. "Actually, her parents did just that for her birthday. They set a bakery on fire right after giving her the cake. They watched it burn into the night. She told me it was a small bakery in the French countryside."

He's laughing. "Now I know where she got all her crazy from."

And she's laughing. "She's mad, isn't she?"

He smiles at her. "At least you're sane."

And she fails to notice that it's for her. "Yeah, at least I am."

"So where'd you wanna go?"

"What?"

He still wants to take her out. "C'mon. It's my treat."

She thinks he's childish. "She really was right about you being a cherry boy."

And she likes the way he flushes like a young schoolboy. "Don't call me that!"

"Why'd your parents name you Misaki anyway? It sounds like a tough name."

"Cut it!"

She presses. "Cherry boy."

"I'm not!"

She smirks. "Had any girlfriends?"

He did stutter, as well as flush. "Y-yeah, of course."

"How many?"

"Two." She's had only one, apparently.

"How old?"

"I was fifteen. It was middle school. On Valentine's Day."

"Isn't that cute?"

His blush reddened. "She gave me chocolate."

"Hm, a bit over-used, don't you think?"

"She told me that she liked me since she was nine."

She grins at this. "Puppy love."

He remembers a vague friendship. "It didn't last."

"How come?"

"She grew to like someone else." He also remembers glasses and dark hair and shy tones.

"Sad."

He sounds a bit light at the next one, "I was seventeen the next time. It was on a regular Tuesday. My—friend and I were on the school rooftop. Two girls from the Student Council scolded us and they blackmailed us into dating them."

She sounds sarcastic. "Really? I wonder why."

"Don't laugh. They just used me to get to my friend." Actually, they didn't. They used his friend to get to him, and he wouldn't want that. He loves him too much to hurt him.

She pats his back. "Ouch. But at least that's over and done with."

"Yeah."

"What happened to him?"

"Who?"

"That friend of yours, where is he now?"

He thinks of burns and scratches, of confessions and heartbreaks, and of forgotten friendships and lost promises. "Trying to find himself, I guess."

"Sounds dramatic."

"I know."

She wants to cheer him up. "Still planning on taking me out?"

"Huh?"

She grabs his hand, "Street food. I know the best stalls in town. Let's go."

And out they go.

* * *

It's five in the afternoon by the time Saruhiko decides to tell Reisi. "Captain, your girl's talking absolute shit."

He sounds strangely curious to hear this, "She is? What kind?"

"Something like what happened in the Eighth Sector."

He sees why it's 'absolute shit' because the Eighth Sector's incident only happened without SCEPTER4's intervention. It happened several years ago. "What else?"

"The Greens."

Hm. Reisi remembers the rich giving to the poor with the use of firepower and hopeless protests. "They're at it again?"

"And Purples."

He smirks, remembering the younger man who stood two inches lower than him. "Who knew Naoki would actually commit?"

Saruhiko shrugs. "Not me."

"I'm surprised at this sudden movement. Usually PHOENIX keeps to themselves."

"What do you have in mind?"

He quotes, "Let the phoenix rise from the ashes, and to ashes shall they return."

Saruhiko sounds disinterested. "What about MASANORI?"

"If she's been working with Osamu again, then she has a bigger debt to him than to any of her other contracts."

He thinks Munakata should be helping his 'partner in crime'. "Shouldn't you—?"

"I am where she needs me to be, and that's perfectly fine." He is there only when she draws near.

Saruhiko whispers. "She's going to die, isn't she?"

"We would have to wait and see."

He pauses, and then dares to ask, "Then where do you think HOMURA is in this grand scheme of hers?"

"Right across us and everyone else."

"A nuisance?"

Reisi nods. "It's a relief that she and I share the same thoughts about them."

It gets personal this time, and Saruhiko smirks. "What about Suoh?"

"The same as ever, right in front of me."

* * *

_"Everything's going to be fine, you don't have to worry. We'll be fine. We'll be fine just like we were before all of this."_

* * *

A/N: Dun, dun, duuuuun. So this is where it all starts. I'm getting all excited. Read and review? Tell me what I should do, where I should go, I'm honestly making this as I go...


	13. chin check

Cancerous

A/N: I'm—I'm just lost. Note that this takes place one day after the events of the previous chapter.

* * *

"I don't understand."

The fashion designer, popularly called Mitsuki, has been fussing over the entire idea Akari present her with—a wedding gown.

Akari flips through the pages of "I don't need you to understand. I need you to make, make, make!"

The younger woman commented from the pile of fabric and magazines, "But what am I—"

Akari sees a particulary expensive-looking dress with tulle and lace and pearls, her eyes widen a bit. She smirks, remembering a movie she's seen some months before. "You've got some lying around, don't you? I mean, with all the runaway brides…"

Mitsuki placed her index finger on her chin in thought. She smiles. "In fact, I think I do have a few."

Akari stands up from her seat. "Good. I'll be back later."

"You aren't going to fit them?"

"Why would I? It's as if I'm actually going to get married."

Mitsuki sighs. "But you're ordering a white wedding gown."

Akari retorts jokingly. "If I order a coffin, does it mean that I'm going to die?"

"Not necessarily."

"See what I mean?"

She nods. "Now I get it."

"Later."

Akari seems to forget that Mitsuki was raised in France. "You'll pick it up today, yes?"

"Yes. Of course."

Akari exits the store with a smile on her face and thought in her head—"kaboom".

* * *

Akane is looking straight ahead and not at the seated man. "Sir, if you must know, I—"

He continues for her, sounding quite disappointed, "Went out without permission from either of your superiors. Yes, I know."

Akane bites her lips into a thin line, and then remembers. She looks at him now and says in a whisper, "She told you, didn't she?"

He leans back in his seat. "If you're referring to Miss Akari, then yes, she did tell me. She wouldn't stop talking about you, actually."

She smiles at this. "Really, sir?"

"On a more relevant topic, your behavioral rating is expected to decrease."

She knows. So he is a stick in the mud. "I know, sir. It's fine."

He raises a brow. "Is it?"

She nods once. "Yes."

He smirks. "How so?"

"I did my job, sir."

He seems to be enjoying this. "Apparently, you didn't."

She forces herself not to blush at his expression. "May I ask why?"

"You ended up taking pleasure in what most would deem as misconduct in terms of our work ethic."

She tries to explain, her cheeks flushing. "But sir, I—"

"You had three glasses? With a criminal?"

"I—" He breath catches in her throat. "Yes, I did."

He scolds her, "You were working out of regulation hours. You even went in an underground club that might be used to hide god knows what.."

She retorts, "Actually, I found no traces of drugs nor evidence of the use of illegal materials."

He says after a pause. "Club Nights."

She smiles a little despite herself. "It's actually a lively place to spend the weekend in."

He thinks of drugs and, oh, of Akari. "She's poisoned you."

"I'm aware of her—" Akane purses her lips, "—mental condition, sir, but I'd have to say that she's quite a socialite in her line of work."

"Which is?"

"Something that involves a smooth tongue and explosives," She pauses for dramatic effect, which seems to work, "Lots of explosives."

"You seem to have forgotten that she's a—"

She cuts him off, feeling proud of herself. "World-class hacker. That's why I came to her in the first place. I was going to arrest her, and then I realized that I haven't gotten your approval yet."

He almost looks incredulous. "Arrest her?"

She sighs inwardly. "Sir, no offense, but you're sounding like a complete hypocrite right now."

He repeats, his voice a little louder this time, "Arrest her?"

She nods pertly. "Yes, sir. We've arrested serial murderers and government activists, why can't we arrest her?"

"She's more than just an activist."

She smirks. "Is she?"

"In all honesty, I don't know what she is. She's a crazy mess that comes crawling to us for help, and we help her."

"How has she helped us?"

"She hasn't."

She actually thinks that he's attracted to Akari, to that mess of a woman, and sets her jealousy into a small amount of rage, "And isn't it one of the reasons why you've put so much effort into creating a utopia? Isn't she one of those people whom you'd like to be in their place once and for all? Isn't she—" She stops and remembers her place below him. She backs away from the edge of the table she seems to be pushing against. She flushes and feels embarrassed. "—Oh, forgive me, sir. I spoke out of place."

He shakes his head and gives her a smile. "No, no. In fact, you've given a new light to the subject that is Mayonaka Akari."

"I didn't mean to—I… Thank you, sir."

"It's a pleasure working with you, Watanabe-kun."

"As always, sir."

* * *

It's almost three in the afternoon by the time Mitsuki zips up Akari's "wedding" dress.

Mitsuki arranges the long gloves. She turns to Akari, who is seated by the dresser. "May I know who the lucky guy is?"

Akari seems to hum as she puts on the pearl earings. "He's a man named HOMURA."

"Really? He sounds scary."

"Oh, he isn't actually. He's someone you'd never expect to end up the way he did."

Mitsuki walks to her, showing the satin gloves. "And how did he end up, if you don't mind me asking?"

Akari sighs and laughs mentally. She thinks of Izumo. "He's gone crazy in love with me."

"I guess that's sweet. Does he give you flowers?"

Akari slips on the gloves, feeling the cool satin on her skin. "Oh, he did. Lots of times. Big, beautiful bouquets of orchids, roses, daisies, sunflowers even."

Mitsuki shows a pearl necklace from a nearby jewelry box. "Sounds like a good guy. I wish my boyfriend gave me flowers like that."

Akari whispers, looking at Mitsuki from the mirror. "But I'll let you in on a secret."

Mitsuki slips on the necklace, not noticing the burn marks on Akari's neck. "Oh? What is it?"

Akari smile widely. "He doesn't know we're getting married."

"Huh? But how could you—"

She smirks. "Mitsuki, you've heard of me as much as I've heard about you. You ought to know that I have my ways with and around words."

"Hm, I sure do. But isn't this some kind of punishment? It's like you're pressuring the guy into marrying you."

"Oh, and another thing, he's been beating me."

Mitsuki gasps, covering her mouth with a hand, "Oh god, really?"

"Sad to say, but yes."

"Then why are you marrying him?"

Akari smirks widely. She thinks of red, red, and more red. "Something that's like revenge, sweet glorious revenge."

She hears Mitsku clap thrice. "Sounds badass. Can I come with to your reception?"

Akari stands up, seeing the full length of the gown at a mirror. "I'll send over something for you."

Mitsuki adds the final touch, the veil and the crown of white flowers on Akari's head. "There. Hope you have a pretty wedding day."

Akari tries to walk without looking down. She smiles. "I will."

She's halfway through the door and Mitsuki halfway through counting the cash. Mitsuki winks at her. "Tell me about your honeymoon, alright?"

Akari laughs. "Sure."

She drives on her own in a wedding gown and white heels. She parks on an open lot and types into her phone…

* * *

"Hey, lover. This is just to let you know that I'm not interested in getting involved with you HOMURA bastards—excluding you, I like you, and I'm guessing that you know that. Anyway, yes, I don't want to get involved with any of you. Usagi, Hikaru, take care of her because I'm not the one responsible for the little patch of utter goodness anymore, you are. If I sense anything negatively different about her, I will not hesitate to shoot and kill every HOMURA member I see. Now you're thinking that I can't shoot because I don't have legit bullets. I'll counter that. I do. I have 9-millimeter, .45 bullets, and an array of explosive and multi-kill bullets stored by the army-size. I have more guns than you think as well. I can even attack you guys with a machine gun attached to the hood of my car as you're reading this, but no—it'll ruin the fun for later. Oops, spoiler. Sorry about that. Later's going to be awesome. Going back, I guess I should have told you the truth about me. I'm not a double-agent or anything, nor am I a government soldier, or an army veteran. I'm simply me, Mayonaka Akari. You know all about me, so I won't say it over again and be redundant. I just want you to know how great you've been to me. At least you aren't some perverted bartender who spikes up alcohol with ecstasy and viagra and then rapes girls and boys. (I know someone who does, and it scares me.) I like you, and it's getting quite obvious (hah, really?) when I look at myself in the mirror the morning after I go drinking alone (that's sad, why not come with me?) and face the hangover. You're like my hangover, you know? You'd be the end factor of everything. So it's actually sad for me to say that this is my goodbye to you. You might never see me again."

She sent the long text message with a picture of her in a simple bridal gown, her hair pulled up in an elegant ponytail, strings of white flowers crowning her head, and a light rouge on her cheeks. She's actually surprised him.

"You are absolutely crazy." He began to type, but erased it as it might just encourage her.

She follows-up her text with a, "Goodbye, lover. It's been nice kissing your cheek, though I should have moved a bit more to the right."

He shuts his phone and sighs before inhaling a long, stressed drag from this cigarette.

* * *

She texts him next, "Oi. Munakata. A wedding's about to happen and you're invited."

He replies quickly. "Hope it isn't anything grand. You know how I am."

"It won't be. It's going to something explosive." She smirks at this.

She can imagine his smirk matching hers. "See you there."

"Any wishes for the bride?"

"Who's the unlucky man?"

"You, of course."

She laughs loudly when he doesn't reply.

* * *

It's past four in the afternoon when she's on the rooftop of a residential building near HOMURA. Black combat boots has replaced her white heels. The front length of the gown has been ripped up to her lower thighs, revealing her stocking-and-garter-clad legs. A bright red sash has been tied around her waist. She takes off the crown, the veil, and the ponytail and lets her hair loose. She returns the veil and the crown with the use of the pins.

She looks to her side, "Smiley, don't fail me now." She says to a portable rocket launcher that she's hauled up into the rooftop with her.

She kneels down and loads the gun with a missile with a red-and-white smiley face painted on it.

She stands up with the gun on her shoulder, and thinks of saying wedding vows because of the irony.

She whispers, "To have and to hold,"

She kneels down on one knee. "From this day forward,"

She looks through the scope. "For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer—"

She attempts as a lock-on, direct hit. "In sickness and in health,"

She smirks. She's got it. "To love and to cherish."

Her finger slowly pulls on the trigger. "Till death do us—"

It fires, lighting up her vision in a sea of yellow and orange. "—part."

* * *

And for a moment there, Izumo thought his beloved bar was done for. A rocket came cruising down a tall building, almost headed to HOMURA.

—but it wasn't. It landed on a bank _near_ HOMURA.

He thinks of a terrorist attack but forgets about it.

He wouldn't want Mikoto to wake up for nothing.

* * *

"Oi! What was—" Yata scouts with his eyes once he's heard the explosion.

Usagi knows that kind of explosion doesn't come from nowhere unless it's—"Don't. It's Akari."

He gets into a fit of rage, "That crazy bitch! When I find her, I'm going to—"

Usagi stops him with a firm hand on his shoulder, "We're going to."

His face drops, "Oh, right."

"This is my fight too. I'm part of HOMURA now."

"But—"

Usagi glares at him, cursing his gentleness. "Don't you belittle me. I'm just as mad as you are."

* * *

Akari keeps the rocket launcher in the trunk of her car.

A masculine voice interrupts her. "A bank? Really?"

She smirks. "You would've been so proud of me, Munakata."

She turns around, hoping he'd come in a crisp suit. He's in his uniform and his usual poker face, "Surprisingly, I'm not."

"It's my wedding gift to you."

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

She laughs at the sick sarcasm of it all. "We're getting married, aren't we?"

"I thought you were the one about jokes. You don't get it, do you?"

She rolls her eyes—of course she gets it. "Oh, I get it. I perfectly get it. Because marriage is such an ironic thing for both of us to do, right? So it's the perfect joke!"

"Sarcasm doesn't make it any better."

She takes a step forward, two steps, and stop when her toes are touching his. "Oh, but you've forgotten, Munkata," She adds even more irony into the situation, "Darling, you've forgotten about our little agreement from way before."

He stiffens. "And that is?"

"I play by your rules and I'm free as a bird."

"This wasn't part of the agreement. Setting missiles to buildings isn't part of anything."

She grins before whispering, "It is. It's part of a bigger plan."

"What's that?"

"Your plan, of course."

He smirks at this suggestion. "Why a bank?"

"Nearest HOMURA, plus it puts the people here in dire need of material saving."

"Which means?"

She smirks. "Hit HOMURA where it really hurts, then the battle's over, but hit them where it'll leave a mark and you've already won."

"It's still not part of what we've agreed on."

She chuckles. "I know, exciting isn't it?"

"Not really."

"C'mon. I know you love me for this, and maybe for everything else."

He stops. The next line he says feels dirty and malicious. "If this was a chessboard, you'd be my queen."

And she might lust after him because of it. "Flattering, but I'd rather be king."

No, they don't kiss. They just stare haughtily at each other, daring the other one to make the first move.

She's sick of waiting so she smacks her lips to his and pushes herself away before he could even glimpse at it. She slaps his cheek and his glasses are thrown off his face.

She exclaims to his face, daring an insult, "I never thought I'd get to slap a king. It feels real good!"

He stops a moment, and smirks at the game she's dared to play, "Hmph." Before taking her fully on his mouth, thankful that she hasn't really moved an inch from what he's last seen of her.

She's always hated green tea.

* * *

_"She's just waiting for us to save her. Trust me."_

* * *

A/N: This feels incomplete. Meh. I just rushed this. About 2 hours of effort, yeah. Read and review? Now who will Akari end up with? *sighs* Hey, anyone for some amount of lime in the next chapter?


	14. beef

Cancerous

A/N: I think I have some explaining to do. There's been so much going on in my head, but I'm trying to focus. So I hope this chapter clears up confusion (if at all *sighs*). It's past 2AM and I felt like writing... About two hours of thought punched into this one and... Here it is.

( 's been crashing, so I deleted this one and re-uploaded it.)

* * *

"I knew you'd do something like this, but handcuffs? Seriously."

She kisses him fully on the mouth this time. She's realized how keeping your hands to yourself is bad, especially when you keep them behind your back.

She licks her lips and gives him a wolfish grin. "Is this part of your kink?"

He says against her neck, "You're under arrest."

She laughs, throwing her head back. "Oh, oh, so this is your kink! Playing good cop-bad cop?"

She hears the "click" of another cuff. "No. I'm arresting you." He's chained them together.

She frowns. "You don't stop, do you?"

He removes himself from her. "The warrant's been signed."

Her hair's disheveled, her dress is wrinkled, and there's a faint line of sweat trickling from her temple to her chin. "How long has it been since you've done this to me?"

He stops looking, and turns his eyes down. "Five years."

"That long?"

"Though not long enough."

She grins. "I agree. We should've done this three years ago."

"You were fifteen when SCEPTER4 first arrested you."

She leans against him. "Hm. You can't get enough of me, can you?"

"Neither can the Silver Trade."

She hums. "You forgot the Yakuza."

"They've forgotten about you."

"Really? Well that's sad."

"Not as sad as you."

She silently agrees, stepping back. She feels the pull on her wrist. "What do you mean?"

He looks at her this time. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Don't act dumb."

She smiles in spite of herself. "I'm not."

He almost chokes. "Why—why a wedding?"

She sounds disappointed, yet he feels no sincerity. "What? You don't like it? I thought you said 'yes'."

"Of course. You were drunk. I had to entertain you."

"And?"

"You started talking about moving to the countryside, or anywhere far from this city—though it seems that you were describing Belgium, with fields of tulips, and medieval castles, and your ideal kind of beer."

Her tone lightens, and her eyes seem to brighten. "Belgium?"

He tells her what she said to him a few nights before. "You want to get married, clear your name, move to somewhere far from here, start anew, fall in love, and happily ever after." Though her "fairytale" seems dramatic and unrealistic.

"So—you'd marry me?"

He steps close. "I didn't say that I wouldn't."

"So, you will?"

"You were drunk when you asked me over the phone."

She says, "But you said 'yes', and even by that—" And pauses, feeling frustrated at him stubbornness, "Oh, just cut the bull, would you? Just tell me what your agenda was."

He's honest. "I had none."

"Fuck you."

He smirks. "You're not drunk enough to do that."

She exclaims, almost shouting in his face, jabbing a finger to his chest. "You know what? Fine. Let's get married since you aren't telling me what's really going on. I'm going to fuck your brains out so hard that you'd end up a sorry little—"

He tugs on their chained wrists and throws her to him. He kisses her on the mouth, deep and sounding. He has one of his hands curling into the dip of her back, while she has one of hers balling the fabric of his coat. Their chained hands intertwined with each other's fingers in mocking passion. She curls into him with a loud, though muffled, sound of lusty need. He smirks mentally as his tongue rolls against her teeth.

He breaks away first and presses into her cheek. He hisses, "Yes. Let's get married."

She sounds hopeful. "You'd really do that for me?"

He swallows a hard gulp. "Yes."

She bites his cheek and whispers maliciously. "No. You're lying. Everyone's lying."

He agrees and mocks her. "You should've known that by now."

"I should have, but I didn't want to—" She uses her free hand to cup his neck. "Not so fast, not like this."

His thumb strokes at her back. "Then just try to run."

Her grip tightens around his neck, either aiming for pleasure or pain. "I did, I tried to, so many times."

"Try again."

She chuckles. "Really? Being that optimistic doesn't suit you."

He gives a sound kiss on her skin. "Neither does being this desperate suit you."

"You just love me so hard, don't you? That's sweet."

"No. You're just too stubborn."

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "I play by your rules and I'm stubborn?"

He pulls away, though not too far as they're chained together. "I've heard about MASANORI. 's in on it as well."

She doesn't know this, at least that's what she's showing him. "What, what's happening?"

He glares. "Don't lie."

"I'm not lying, what makes you think I'm lying?"

"You know what's going to happen."

"I don—" She's stopped by the feeling on cold steel below her jaw. He's fast, lightning-fast. "Oh, now you're mad."

He nods lightly. "Furious."

"I'll only say the things I'm sure of."

The blade presses deeper. "The things you know."

"Alright, I'll tell you the things I know."

"Go on." He lowers the tip of the blade to her neck.

"MASANORI's planning to take back their city." She almost laughs at the situation, "Just like it was before, huh?"

He completely removes the blade from her. "Thirteen years ago."

She remembers the old, dying man dressed in green and brown. "And with their new king, they've gone from bad to worse and from worse to startlingly better." And then she remembers the man's son dressed in green and gray.

"Who's their supplier?"

She looks down. "Osamu Daichi's the new king, young, smart, and rich enough to get arms custom-built. And they've got this new thing going on, they call it the 'Neo-samurai Era'. From what I know those are the traditions of honor and killing mixed with guns—" She looks at him. "Big ones."

His voice lowers as her eyes do. "What about PHOENIX? What are they in all of this?"

She remembers the pretty-faced "Yamato Nadeshiko" from a few years back. He was her friend. She was in love with him in high school. He was in love with her during their elementary days. She smiles at the thought. "Naoki Yasumaru's what you would call on introvert." She stares at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Gossip around the underground says that he's just a prop they call a king. Gotta say though, he's a good-looking prop."

He clears his throat. "Anything more relevant?"

"They say that he's planning a mass-assault on the city's most notorious gangs."

"They're acting like vigilantes."

She's somewhat indifferent to this. "Sniper-assassins more like it. They've killed three of the Silver Trade's class-five clients, the international groups' leaders with only a bullet and a knife."

"Can't see why they're a threat."

She smirks. "Oh, this is where it all come together; Osamu's been making negotiations with Naoki to quote-en-quote, 'take back their city'—let's me emphasize on 'their'. You see, they've been in hiding for the most, and—"

"They?"

She nods. "PHOENIX. So I was saying, they've been hiding, and you know how they are—Neo-shinobi, or the new age of the ninja. They don't kill with just extreme precision and delicate movement, they do it with razor wires, silenced rifles that aren't supposed to exist, and knifes with blades as thin as a strand of hair. And you know what?"

He follows her thought. He thinks he's figured it out. "MASANORI's supplying them."

She sound interested in this subject, like it's a discussion over coffee. "Osamu's rich, filthy rich, and he's got a reputation to make for it. Hey, if you add samurai and shinobi together with a revolution and a gunfire, you'd get a war."

"Where's HOMURA in all of this?"

She laughs a little. "Now HOMURA—HOMURA's a wild card. I can't say for sure where they are. But I'm thinking that they're right in the middle of it all."

"How about us? SCEPTER4?"

"Well you guys are what I'd call the clean-up. Your work's going to commence at the end of it all. Unless you'd want to rile them all up and take them all at once."

He pauses and contemplates. He might be scared for her. "Where are you?"

"I don't know. I don't ally myself. Gang wars are the worst. Remember what happened to the Eighth Sector a few decades back?"

He remembers that incident from when he was a boy. "That place has been destroyed."

"Apparently they turned it into a power plant. Word has it that it still emits power enough to remake the Kagutsu Incident three times."

He feels insulted. "They've been feeding off of us."

She shrugs, taking his indifference and ignorance. "What else do you expect normal people like me to do with what's been left over? It's not as if you kings actually care about the rest of us."

"We do."

"How much do you? Enough to kill all those lives jeopardized because you have abilities that we don't? Sometimes I just want to go straight for the Silver king and kill him and end all of this."

"You know you can't."

"I can try."

"It's futile."

She bites harshly. "Then you do it."

"I won't."

She glares. "Coward."

"It's completely logical."

She's annoyed by his arrogance. "Only a king can kill a king, so why don't you do it?"

"I won't because I simply don't want to."

"Why? You afraid of losing?"

"I'm more afraid of winning."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know what's going to happen next." He's always been afraid of that.

"Isn't that the gist of life itself, Munakata? Isn't it that the purpose of our existence is to find out what happens in the end of it all?"

He sighs. "This isn't about life—"

"Then what's it about? The struggle for power?"

He inhales and exhales sharply. "It just might be."

"Then fight. Win or lose, the end's going to be the same anyway."

"How will it?"

She says the lesson she puts into every failure and every success. "All of us will die. That's the thing about life, you're given a choice to find your purpose, find it or not, you're going to die in the end."

"You're contradicting yourself."

She is, and she knows that he is too. "Much like how you telling me that you'll marry me, even if you're secretly pinning for someone else."

"Who might that someone be?"

"Someone who actually makes an effort to be challenging. I don't."

He repeats. "Then you aren't. I lied about marrying you."

"I know. You told me already." She's still a little bit hopeful about that escape to the countryside. "But you don't happen to have a plane ticket to Belgium, do you?"

"Matter of fact, I do. Two actually, in case you plan to bring anyone along."

She laughs. "I'd love you for this,"

He finishes for her. "But you don't."

She steps close to him and grips at his arm. "Yes. I don't love you, not yet, but I might."

"You're due on trial two weeks from now."

"You'll love me eventually, won't you?"

"Who said that I didn't?"

"Give me a kiss goodbye to prove it."

He follows through, leading her away from the mess she's dragged herself into, even if just for a moment.

* * *

About two hours later, he doesn't look back at her when she's imprisoned.

She smirks at the irony.

"You know you can't keep me here, Munakata."

He replies. "You know that I can't keep you anywhere, Mayonaka." His next line surprises her, "But I try to." It feels like adding insult to injury.

She then concludes. "Hypocrite."

* * *

_"Sometimes I think about her, too."_

* * *

A/N: This might be one on the shortest chapters in terms of events, but anyway it was made to clear up some things, and I hope that it did. And yeah, I sort of forgotten about that lime… Anyway, read and review?


	15. all day

Cancerous

A/N: It's been one hell of a week. I mean that in a good way. This week's been awesome, so awesome. From my club's performance of Jesus Peralta's "The Mouth Is An Open Wound" to my class' Graduation Song Competition, and to all of those tests and stuff.. Anyway, here's the fifteenth chapter and I hope I did some justice with this one.

* * *

_"I don't want to do this anymore!"_

She was young. She was naïve.

_"Mom! Dad! I don't want to do this!"_

She was seven and she had a bomb in her backpack.

_"Sweetie, all you have to do is leave your backpack in play area."_

_"But it's Mrs. Snugglepuff!"_

_"We'll get you another one when we get home, sweetie. Now do as you're told and make mommy and daddy happy."_

_"Will we get cake, daddy?"_

_"As much as you want, we can even watch Diamond Sky again."_

_"Really?"_

_"Now go in and play, and remember to leave your backpack when mommy calls, okay?"_

_"Yes, mommy!"_

* * *

Akari woke up in a cold sweat. It was four in the morning. The little light streaming from the high window was coming from the lamp outside. She sits up and leans against the hard wall. She takes a deep breathe and exhales tiredly.

She could make out a face, a body, and a uniform in that light. It spoke, "It took you long enough."

She gasped inwardly and laughs in spite of herself. "Holy shit."

She could feel the disdain in his voice. He steps forward and she's assured of his identity, "You were talking in your sleep, moving wildly too."

The fact that it's Munakata Reisi makes her uncomfortable. "Since when do you watch me sleep?"

"Since yesterday night."

She frowns. "Creep."

He takes two steps forward, stopping about a meter away from her. "Security purposes."

She looks up at him. "You're stepping on human rights."

"No. I'm merely following the certain rules you have as a criminal," He narrows his eyes at her smug expression, "I suggest you do as well."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Is watching people talk in their sleep a rule? I know it isn't."

He frowns before saying, "You were talking about your childhood."

She raises a curious brow. "Was I?"

"You were seven the first time you held a bomb."

She feigns the feeling of insult. "I was seven when you were three."

"You were nine the first time you detonated a bomb."

She knows that she's infinitely older than him in terms of experience. "I was nine when you were four."

He dares to ask her. "You were how old when your parents—"

She's not in a particularly cooperative mood. She snaps, "Had an accident. They were drunk. They were high. It was dark. There was a storm. It was inevitable."

He concludes her personality. "You were young, and so you follow in their footsteps."

She shrugs, removing her arms and placing them on her sides. "The Yakuza abandoned me. I had to learn to fend for myself."

He takes another step forward. "The government offered you a scholarship at a technical institute and they were about to give you a home, a family."

She scoffs, rolls her eyes. "Too bad I intended to use my skills my way and live the way I want to live."

"Why?"

She turns her head to the side, not wanting to see his expression of degradation and disappointment. "The government's run by a bunch of snobbish hypocrites who only do it for the money and the publicity that comes with it."

"Really."

She whips her head at him and leans in, feeling annoyed by his constant questioning. "Because I don't want to, simple as that. I was a teenager. I was rebellious. I grew up in crime, what else could I have said?"

"You could have accepted it."

She gets smug. She smirks. "And if I did, where would I be, where would you be?"

He leans away. "Hm. It seems that you're right. You are a born criminal."

She leans in, kneeling to reach up to him. "And you wouldn't want me any other way."

He's the one to smirk next. "True."

"So why are you still here?"

"Keeping an eye on you."

She smiles at this. "You don't have to. It's not like I have a bomb ready to explode, or a virus that's uploading itself into your mainframe."

"You do."

She nods. "I did."

"Where is it?"

She leans back and sits on her ankles. "Terminated. I had to rewrite the code. It seemed too easy to crack."

He guesses. "Password?"

She replies. "Munakata."

He coughs at the impracticality. "That's it?"

"Told you it was easy to crack, seeing as you're an egotistic bastard."

"I'd have to say though, I feel flattered."

"Oh, you do. It's because I did it."

"Might as well be the reason SCEPTER4 hasn't blocked your signal."

She rolls her eyes at his confidence. "You don't even know where it's coming from."

He knows exactly where the signal's being transmitted, he's known for weeks. "In the canals? Under SCEPTER4? You're losing your touch."

She leans back, kneeling to rise close to his level. "Maybe you've just grown smarter," She lets his name roll off in her tongue, provoking him, "Reisi."

"Don't say my name."

"What, we're still on a surname basis?"

He grows cold. "You don't have the right."

She jabs a finger at his chest. She's quite surprised how he's at the foot of her bed already. "And you don't have the right to watch people in their sleep. God knows what you think about—"

"I have no intention of harassing you."

She aims to provoke him even more. She smirks. "It's not considered harassment if it's mutual, darling."

He manages a steady breath before placing his hands on the sides of her neck. "Would you consider this?"

She loops her arms around his waist and pulls and pulls and pulls—

He falls over her, his head resting beside hers.

She chuckles, gripping at his hair and neck. "You needn't ask."

* * *

Usagi swallows a large gulp of water before replying to the text with a call, "She's what!"

She only got up to get a drink of water, and to check her phone. The moment she finished reading the text message, she called him up with no respect at the time.

Izumo sighs. He talks to her over the phone. He's half-asleep. He knows already what Usagi is talking about. "Arrested. It was on the news the other night."

It's too early in the morning and she's already furious and frustrated. "You can't be serious."

He yawns. "I am. I'm actually glad that she—"

She looks around the empty apartment, at Akari's still untouched room. "That's not her."

"What are you talking about?"

"Akari wouldn't let herself get arrested."

"But apparently the Blues got to her sooner."

"Impossible."

He hums. "Nothing is, nowadays."

"She'd never let herself get caught."

"You should've seen the look on her face, though."

"Why?"

He feels disturbed, and makes a face of dislike. "She looked like her arrest was planned, or she's just insane."

"Do you think it was planned?"

He nods. "Know it, as well as that detail that she's completely insane."

"She's had her ties with SCEPTER4, thought I didn't know they still existed."

He forgets this detail, or maybe she hasn't told him. "She did?"

"You know it. She told you."

He remembers a text from Akari from long ago. "I could hardly believe it."

Usagi smirks. "But you believed her when she said she had a degree in medical psychology, didn't you?"

Izumo grumbles, he knew Akari was lying about that all along. "How do you know all these?"

"She tells me—err, rather—used to tell me everything."

"You must know some truth about her, right?"

"Hey, all I know is that she's a hacker, she's can create bombs under two hours and detonate them three hundred meters away, she's hiding-running from the Silver Trade, she's what you would call crazy because she's crazy in love with you."

He wipes his palm on his forehead in exasperation. "You have got to be kidding."

She reasons out, "I'm a teenager, my reasoning relies on my hormones and my feelings."

"I thought you weren't that kind of person."

"What kind? The whiny, hormonal, emotional kind? Think again."

There's a silence and he decides to say goodbye. "Are you coming over?" He's referring to HOMURA's base.

"Yep. I'm going on patrol." She remembers the first time she was on patrol with Yata. He's impulsive and he needs to get his back straightened up, she thinks. "The punk needs some company."

"Goodluck then."

"And good morning to you too."

She ends the call and decides to be on the lookout for SCEPTR4 later. She needs answers.

* * *

He pulls away from her. "What do you think this is? Consummation?"

She sits up and feels the need for alcohol. She sighs in disappointment. "What else would it be? I'm stripped down to my underwear and you haven't even removed that coat." She forgets how good he is at piecing puzzles together—as well as working on zippers, laces, and buttons while kissing her neck and pulling at her skin. She flushes in mild recall of the events that passed by a few minutes ago.

He smirks. "It simply means—"

She raises a hand to stop him. "No. Don't even start on an innuendo. You suck at it."

He gets hold of her raised arm's wrist. "As do you, trying to escape."

"Escape what?"

"This." He leans in and curls a free arm around her waist. He pulls her flush against him and locks their lips perfectly.

He pulls her away in mid-passion and smirks. She frowns. "That was foul."

He kisses her cheek soundly before leaning into her neck. "You aren't the only one who has tricks."

Her hands grip at his hair and she notices the glasses thrown off into the floor. "Of course you learned from the best."

He says soundly against her skin, "Do you mean my reflection?"

"You even suck at comebacks."

His fingers trace the dip of her back and the edge of her hip. "But I'll make you—"

She pulls at his hair roughly. "Oh good god—just stop, please. Stop. You're making my ears bleed."

He leers at her. "That's not the only thing that will bleed."

She averts his gaze and shudders at his comment. "Your eyes are next if you don't stop staring."

"I never thought you'd wear something from the bridal collection."

"A wedding's never complete without a bride, isn't it?"

"You take roleplaying quite seriously."

She opens her mouth to tempt him, but then snaps instead. "No. I'm not going to act like a virgin bride on her honeymoon, if that's what you're thinking."

"I never said anything."

She rolls her eyes. "Thinking. Not saying. How did you get this stupid?"

"Since you."

"Now that plain hurts."

"Not as much as this." He tugs at her waist and grinds his teeth along her neck.

She doesn't moan. "You want something, don't you?"

He hums against her jaw. "You."

She rolls her eyes. "Other than me."

"Nothing else."

"I have a bomb rigged and ready to explode in a matter of hours."

"Do you?"

She does, apparently, in a mall. It's set to explode at four-thirty in the afternoon. It's been there since a few weeks back. "This is evidence that you are not as smart as you think."

"How?"

She cradles his face in her hands, kisses him quickly, and whispers mockingly, "You're just as weak as any man. You have no right to call yourself a King."

"Then what does make a King?"

She doesn't know the answer to that, but she thinks of abnormalities in strength and power, "But actually, King is just a title. Remove that title and it's like stripping them of their dignity. It's absolutely hilarious the way people like you think they can change the world by using one word."

He frowns. "You have no idea what it's like."

She knows exactly what it's like. She goes through it nearly every single day of her life. "To live according to a set rule given by someone who thinks they're more powerful than the average person? Believe me, Munakata, I've had my share of injustice and equality."

"Do you?"

She nods. "Everyday I do."

"Then you're just as power-hungry as anyone."

"Why wouldn't I be? It's people like you who made the world into this by having powers beyond normal human capacity."

He thinks of himself. "It makes me think that you've always been envious."

"Not you, but the power Kings posses. I want it." She pauses, "—for everyone."

"Why?"

"Because the world deserves some sense of equality at least."

"The world was never meant to have equality, that's just the way it is."

She thinks he's just protecting himself. "Stop defending yourself."

"I'm not. I'm merely stating the one universal truth."

"That there will never be equality among people?"

He doesn't remove his hands from her. "Yes."

"Then I blame you, and all the other Kings out there."

He leans back in, and whispers into her ear, "You can be my queen." He goes back to her lips and kisses her again.

She strokes his jaw and says affectionately, maliciously, "I'd rather be a pawn, that's how everyone is to you, right?"

He removes his hands from her and stays still before shifting his gaze to the wall. "We're moving your trial to next week."

She breathes heavily as he moves away from her quickly. "So that's how you really are, huh?"

He picks up his glasses that have been askew on the floor. "Excuse me?"

She has her arms around herself and she's sure of her reply, "You're just a cold bastard because you can't face the truth about you."

"No."

She is empathetic. She doesn't smile. She frowns. "You're a lonesome child who lacks the human capacity to feel sympathy and guilt."

He is silent and she is too. He leaves without another word and she feels completely and utterly used.

* * *

_"And in another world, I'd be the only King and you'd be my queen."_

* * *

A/N: Never thought I'd be able to do that. I think I messed-up the characterizations. I'm going to cry now. Anyway, read and review?


	16. no smoke

Cancerous

A/N: So here I am, hoping to gather up my AkarixIzumo feels. I hope to clear up a few things with this one.

* * *

"I know I'm not welcome here, but—"

"No. Get out."

She smiled at his instant reaction the moment she stepped inside the bar. It might be too early in the morning, at 7AM, but-

"I just want to say that I'm sorry."

His back was turned to her. "No need."

She looked at the woolly red in her hand. "You left your scarf."

He sounds annoyed. "Burn it."

She removes the white envelope tucked into in her arm. "And the envelope."

"I don't want it."

She pauses and frowns. She isn't even halfway inside. "Are you really that mad at me?"

He whips to her, face turned into a scowl. "Furious. Why are you even here? Aren't you supposed to be imprisoned?"

She shrugs and proceeds to step inside fully. "They gave me a few hours." She closes the door softly.

He rolls his eyes and turns away from her. "Oh, I forgot, you have ties to SCEPTER4."

She takes small steps forward. "Did I tell you that?"

His tone changes from annoyance to bitterness. "I'm not sure, but the fact that you're here proves it."

"There's a bunch of them outside. I wouldn't be able to do anything."

He mutters, "Of course."

"How's Hikaru?"

"She's fine."

She approaches the bar stool, but doesn't sit on it. "Is she?"

"She's out on patrol right now, you just missed her by a few minutes."

She places his scarf and the envelope on the counter. "Oh."

A minute of silence passes by. She didn't move and neither did he.

He turns to her then, faces her fully with a look of disdain on his face. "Shouldn't you be leaving?"

Her face is turned to the wood. "I have four hours left of freedom before I'm put back in the cell." She looks up at him to give a small smile. "I plan on spending at least two with you."

He hisses, "I don't want you here. No one does."

She turns her head down. This amuses her. "You just had to say that, don't you?"

He leans in and says to her again in a louder voice, "No one wants you here."

She thinks it through. She replies in a whisper. "I know that, but I want to be."

"Why?"

"Because Hikaru's here."

"Is there any other reason?"

"Because you're here."

He rolls his eyes and turns his back to her again. He proceeds to organize the glasses on the shelf. "What do you even see in me?"

"Sympathy."

"I don't feel the least bit concerned about you."

"You don't mean that."

He nods. He remembers her dress and the so-called 'farewell letter'. "I do. And yet you pushed my limits by sending me that message—and that photo."

"I felt obliged to at least tell you."

He whips around and shouts to her, "You told me that you don't want to be involved in HOMURA, and yet you're here." He wipes his palm down his face and mutters, "You hypocrite."

"Everyone's a hypocrite. I could see it in your eyes; you want to kill me, but why haven't you?"

"I'm not a murderer."

"No one is, but everyone's a killer one way or the other."

He sighs and goes to light a cigarette. "Would you—just please, leave."

She leans in and props up her face with an elbow on the counter. "What do you really know about me, bartender?"

He takes in a drag, a long one, before facing her. "You're a liar, that's all I can say."

"Then what if I give you all there is to me?"

He shakes his face. "There's nothing else to you."

"How do you know that?"

He looks her dead in the eye this time, seeing nothing but mild amusement and chaos in her. "You've fooled me, you've fooled everyone—I'm surprised how you haven't fooled yourself."

"You haven't heard my side of the story."

"It won't make a difference anyway, so why bother telling me?"

"Because I told you once, I trust you."

"And I'm surprised I haven't even told Mikoto anything." He wants to slap himself for this.

She smiles. "You can tell him everything when I'm gone."

"What, you think that we're going to help you?"

She's hopeful. "No, but I think he might."

"You sound sure of yourself."

"I haven't drunk alcohol in three days. This is what happens to me."

"Then you'd better clean up that habit of yours. You're looking a bit decent."

She thinks it's a compliment. "I should thank you, but that isn't my style."

He raises a brow, taking in a drag. "Then what is?"

She pushes the scarf and the envelope closer to him. "Here. I'm giving you your scarf back. And here's the money I owe you."

"I told you I don't need them, what so hard to understand about that?"

"I'm giving them back. You wouldn't want anything to do with me ever since I stepped in this bar. And since I'm going to spend the rest of my life in jail, I might as well cut my ties off, don't you think? So I'm giving this back, and I'm paying you—finally paying you."

He takes them cautiously. "You're actually doing something rational in your life, huh?"

"I do what I have to."

He places them near the sink. "Can you leave now?"

"I have a favor to ask."

"If it involves keeping things for safekeeping, I'm out."

She smiles in recollection. "Gimme a reverse screwdriver, for old time's sake."

He stares at her scrutinizing before saying, "Fine." He proceeds to make her a tall glass, placing four ice cubes before pouring vodka and orange juice. She's silent the entire time and it makes him feel like he's alone in the room.

He places it in front of her and she takes it in her hands. She smiles at him before proceeding to drink from it. She misses the cold-hot burn of alcohol down in her mouth and down her throat. "You do make the best drinks."

"That all?"

She places the drink down on the counter and seems hesitant. She says in a low whisper, "Can I—can I kiss you?"

He's quick to reply. "No."

She nods once. "Just once."

"No."

She seems like she's begging. "A peck on the lips?"

"No."

She shakes her head and laughs lightly, "I won't force you down or anything—"

"I said no."

"It won't mean anything to you anyway, it might even mean nothing to me."

"That's insane."

"It's just a kiss."

He says in a frustrated tone, "But why?"

"Because I've wanted to kiss you ever since the third time we met."

He remembers the time she wore the dress. "Can't you understand?"

"I completely understand, but what the hell is wrong with a—"

He places his lips on hers in a sloppy, awkward kiss. It's bitter mix of alcohol on the lips and harsh smoke in the mouth.

He pulls away before she can relish the warm feeling. "There. Happy?"

Her face is flushed. She laughs. "Shocked, but ultimately happy. Can't see why you haven't done this earlier."

He takes in a drag. "Why?"

"Why a kiss, or why you?"

"Both."

She takes a sip of her drink. "I like you. That's it basically."

He leans in, placing crossing his arms over his chest. "Would you elaborate on that?"

She brightens up almost instantly. "This means I'm staying longer?"

He shrugs. "It's not like you're about to leave anyway."

She knows it too. "Right."

"So what did you like in me?"

"If I say everything, I'd be lying and saying the truth at the same time."

He rolls his eyes, uncrossing his arms and letting them fall to his sides. "As always, I suppose."

"You're growing on me, and maybe I'm growing on you. You tolerate me much better now."

"And?"

"Minus the godly drinks, you're a pretty bearable-unbearable kind of guy."

"Explain."

"You claim to hate me, and yet you make me stay."

He corrects her, his face flushing. "Correction: Ask you to explain, not stay."

"You tell me that you can't stand me, but you still went with whatever I wanted."

"I had to. It's a man's word."

She smiles at his gentlemanly attitude. "You could've declined."

He claims that it's not empathy. "Something in my head says that it's not a good idea to say 'no' to you."

"Then whatever that it is right."

He takes in a drag, long and tired. "What else?"

"Well, I'd say you're pretty attractive, but that would be scratching on the surface. I want to dig deeper."

"Huh."

She downs a heavy gulp. "You—" She purses her lips in search for a word, "—care." She looks at him, "Yes, you do. You make me feel like there's someone who cares, or maybe you're just sympathetic to everyone."

He takes the latter. "I guess I am sympathetic."

"That makes you weak." It sounded like an insult.

"Then I suppose you've given up sympathy?"

Her next words seem to soften him. "And weaknesses just prove that you're human enough to feel."

"What does that have to do with—"

Her gaze at him softens, like she's about to cry. "I've spent my life around people who dominate with inhuman prowess. Feeling things for a pretty normal person is refreshing."

"What about Hikaru?"

She calls her like she used to call her. "Usagi? She isn't a strain, but she's a part of a clan now."

"No, before."

"She was like a sister to me. And when I say 'feeling things', I mean feeling—literally feeling."

He doesn't want to say it, but he goes on ahead and does, "Love?"

She smiles sadly and breaks her stare at him. She looks down. "Something like that. One of the reasons might be that I've been in love with those Heirs and some of those Kings—and it's a pretty strange thing, being in something like love with people who are beyond you."

"How?"

"Take for example, a truth of mine that you probably haven't heard about. Munakata and I are—"

He assumes. "In a self-destructive, sexual relationship."

"We haven't really done anything you'd consider as sex, that would be cheating, but yes." She meant cheating on their arrangement, "Though you've forgotten about how we use each other in a political sense."

"I haven't." He inhales a smoke and is surprised that there's not much of the cigarette left.

"Okay. Take that for example, he is beyond me both physically and mentally. He knows what I do and I just do whatever he permits me to do. It's that kind of freedom that democracy dictates to us. It's not the ideal kind of freedom where there's no malice and no control."

He moves to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I feel sorry for you."

She glances down at it and smiles. She looks back up at him and leans in, "You don't have to, because in the end we'll all end up the same way—alone and left to gather whatever we can from the remnants of war."

He removes his hand at this time, thinking she might enjoy it too much. "You know you could always leave."

"What if I'm insane enough not to leave? What if I want to stay here?"

He shrugs. "Then I guess you're back to where you started as a child when your parents, you know."

"History repeats itself. The incident in the Eighth Sector can happen again, and probably soon."

"Might be just that."

"Would you be there to witness it?"

"I might be in it."

She hums as she takes a sip. "Hm, I guess gangs like HOMURA aren't as activist as I thought."

"If it will happen, where do you think you'd be?"

"On a plane to Belgium with tears in my eyes and a sad requiem playing into my ears."

He thinks she's broken her promises, but then again she hasn't prmised anything. "You're insane and a coward."

Her voice is louder this time, "Didn't you tell me that I could just leave this? That I can just run?"

"What about Hikaru? The Silver Trade? And who else might be after you, what about them?"

She's honestly afraid of what will happen, so she sugarcoats the truth. "Hikaru will be safe, I know she will. She's a fighter. The Silver Trade would get sick of me eventually. SCEPTER4 would forget me as fast as they've first met me. Daichi would be mad at me for leaving, but he'll accept it later on. And Naoki, well, he'd cry a while and then move one like he never knew me."

But she knows that Hikaru would give up as soon as she sees inescapable death around her. The Silver Trade would have her dead before she could reach a week in Belgium, unless she pays her debts now. SCEPTER4 would break their ties to her and immediately put her on their Blacklist. And she knew Daichi and Naoki could care less for her.

He doesn't know the last two. "Naoki? Daichi?"

She remembers a time of ecstatic running and adrenaline pills. "PHOENIX and MASANORI, but I'm not particularly close, or known to most of them, just their Kings."

He sees through her. "I see. So you have lived a life of running and hiding."

"It's the only life I ever had. I was born into this and so shall I die in it."

He takes in a drag, and exhales a smoke as he says, "Sounds melodramatic."

She nods. "It is."

There's a bit of silence before he speaks again, "So, shouldn't you be leaving?"

"Isn't there anything else you'd like to ask me?"

"Did you really graduate with a degree in medical psychology?"

"Usagi—" She realizes that she has no right to call her by that name anymore, "Hikaru told you, didn't she?"

"Did you or did you not?"

"Didn't. Taking up medicine would take up too much time and I don't have that much money to burn for such causes."

"So Mikoto having cancer…"

"Was merely an assumption, seeing as he looks and breathes like a heavy smoker."

He deadpans. "He is."

"Then you'd better stop that habit—yours and his."

He inhales a smoke. "Then don't be an alcoholic."

"I'll stop if you will." She gives him a smirk before drinking.

"Then we might die from this."

She chuckles. "You'll die from emphysema and I'll die from cirrhosis. What a happy ending."

"Would you like to toast to that?"

She nods. He crushes what's left of his cigarette in an ash tray and pours himself a drink.

He raises a glass to her. "To death by the things we love."

She meets is glass with hers as their eyes meet in soft agreement.

_*chink*_

There's an echo in the room.

"To retribution."

They both down their drinks. Her glass is now empty. "Anything else you'd like to ask me?"

His glass is too. "About that wedding, were you serious?"

She laughs. "Was I ever serious about anything?"

He tips his glass to her. "Point taken, but still."

"Weddings are funny, ridiculous even. It's a symbol of how society perceives happy endings, but in reality it's not an ending, it's a completely new beginning that comes from a too-quick ending."

"What do you mean?"

"To get to the point, I find weddings extremely sardonic, to the point that people just use it as an excuse to escape."

"Escape to what?"

"A brand new life."

He nods and hums in agreement. "Hm."

"So I did that entire wedding get-up because it feels hilarious, I'm attempting an escape all the while setting a rocket to explode to the bank nearest you."

He suggests something to her. "Why don't you just get married to him?"

It's not anything new, she even thought about that herself. "Who? Munakata?"

He shrugs. "Whoever King you've been pinning for."

"Oh, well I can't."

"Why?"

"There's that much of a distance between the two of us."

He knows the obvious difference between Munakata's system and her being spontaneous. "Sounds like you're right. Sorry."

"What for?"

"Agreeing with you getting married even if what you really want to do was to get out on your own."

He's right at that and it makes her hurt. "Do you know me that well? It seems like you do."

"I get to know all my customers."

She opens her mouth and then closes it in deep thought. She turns to him again, and whispers. "What if I told you that I'd rather get married to you?"

"Then you wouldn't be able to. I'd say 'no' right away."

"And just the way you are, but I bet you'll say yes eventually."

He smiles and gives her a faint hope. "When you finally stop drinking, then I might."

It makes her feel elated, the way he smiled. "What about my quote-en-quote outlandish get-up?"

He nods. "It'd be bearable."

Her smile matches his. "Can I kiss you again?"

He averts his eyes. "Well, given that I was the one who kissed you, I—"

Her lips meet his and she smiles into the kiss.

When she pulls away, her hands are on the side of his face. She says against his cheek, "Thank you. For everything."

He doesn't move away from her, but keeps the sincerity in his voice. "You do know that I'll never see you again."

She's the one to push him away. "I know, and you don't feel the least saddened by it."

He gives her a small hope again. "Just a little, maybe."

She slides from her seat and walks away. "Why?"

When her hand is on the doorknob, her replies with a sad, nostalgic smile. "Everyone needs some crazy in their lives."

She stops and feels her face burning. A tear rolls down her cheek and she finds it hilarious, why would she cry? But she replies, turns to face him and smiles as she says, "Thank you."

He then wonders why he can't get the taste of orange and vodka out of his mouth, and the warm, tingling feeling on his lips.

* * *

_"She's jailed? Then we move to plan B. We bomb them."_

* * *

A/N: This chapter was sad. The next chapter's going to be pretty action-filled. Read and review?


	17. hold your mud

Cancerous

A/N: Everything's moving, finally moving. And I think this chapter is a tad bit too short, oh well. Hahaha, I'm about to go to school and I had the guts to update this. It's been on hold for about four days, so here. Enjoy!

* * *

"I know what you're thinking, Naoki."

He looks over his shoulder, "This doesn't concern you, Osamu."

Said person with a golden yellow shade of eyes and a shoulder-length mop of brow hair replied with a scowl on his face, "Don't call me that. You know I hate that name."

The other person in the room had violet-colored irises and black hair that was cut short, and yet it covered most of hi face. He replied with an amused grin, "What? Osamu? You're just like your father, anyway."

Osamu slams his open palm on the desk where Naoki was seated behind. "Stop it!"

He leans in. "Then why don't you call me by my first name?"

He scoffs, exhaling loudly. "I don't want to. Remember that this is just a deal of convenience."

"For you maybe, but where is PHOENIX in all of this?"

"Don't you remember?"

He leans back in his seat. "Kindly shed some light on the subject, will you?"

Osamu points to himself and then to Naoki. "You help me. I help you. We help each other and Shizume's ours for the taking."

He rolls his eyes. "Shameless."

"It's not."

"Not that."

"Then what?"

He bites his lip quickly, pausing, and then continues this time looking directly into Osamu's eyes. "Do you remember Akari?"

He shrugs. "How could I forget?"

Naoki averts his eyes before whispering, "She was a mess."

"She still is apparently."

He looks back up at him. "Do you want to save her?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

He smirks. "She's helped me before, she's bound to help me again."

His name is Osamu Daichi, third heir to the green clan, MASANORI's throne of power. As a selfish brat, he's got nothing else to lose that's entitled solely to his name. It's always his father's and his grandfather's property the rest of Shizume city is after. He doesn't owe them anything. He could care less.

He quirks a curious brow. "You alone?"

The other one in the room is Naoki Yasumaru, the current king of the purple clan, PHOENIX. Granted with the least amount of sympathy from the allies and enemies alike of the clan's former power-holder, he keeps to himself and keeps the clan's solidarity as consistent as it never was before. He has worked alone and he sees the benefits of something like a monopoly, a dictatorship—but no, he doesn't work that way, not entirely.

Osamu chuckles. "Oh, I forgot. You were in love with her."

Naoki flushes, looking down. He mutters, "That was a long time ago." He remembers the first time he's kissed her.

"And you still are."

He shakes his head, closes his eyes. "I'm not."

"If you say so."

He pauses, stops himself from overreacting. He looks up, "But still. I wonder why you want her on our side. You're the one who told me that we need her."

Osamu nods, he's sure of himself. "She's knows her way in and out of things."

"And that's a good thing?"

"I hope so."

Naoki contemplates. He whispers. "She needs more than saving, she needs us."

Osamu thinks Naoki's about to cry. "I know, now stop being so emotional about it."

And in a few seconds, Naoki's left inside the room with nothing but a forgotten letter in his hands.

_"Let's rule the world. – Akari."_

* * *

Usagi's not sure how she stumbled upon one of the Yakuza's hideouts. It's ten in the morning and she was supposed to meet Misaki right about now.

She's even more surprised how non-violent they are. "Look. I want you to cooperate, is that so hard to understand?"

The seated man says to her, feeling obviously agitated, "We already told you. She hasn't been here in years."

"She hasn't been here—but she's contacted you, right?"

"No. She rarely ever—"

Loophole. She jabs a finger in the air. "Aha! So that means that she does contact you!"

The other one speaks. "She did. She used to."

"Why?"

The third one smiles. "She pays up our debts. We've been cleared from the Silver Trade."

"What else?"

The fourth one sounds nostalgic. "She calls to inform us, to greet us on holidays. She sends out gifts, too."

She looks at the first one, "That all?"

He nods. "Yes."

"You sure?"

He repeats, "Yes. Now get out, kid."

She places her hand on top of a small crate. "Not before I take this."

The second one speaks, "What are going to do with it?"

She nods, carrying the small crate in her arms. "HOMURA business. Highly classified."

"Oh, alright. That's not part of the list, is it?"

"No, that was by pure chance."

She asks out of curiosity, "What's inside this, anyway?"

"Instant noodles, I think."

She smiles. "Awesome. You know, you guys aren't as bad as I thought you'd be."

"We're old. We ought to let you young people do as you wish."

"Now get going before our boss sees you."

* * *

Fushimi Saruhiko has been on the lookout for suspicious activity around the warehouses near the docks, but he spots a face, a terribly familiar face. "You know, I never thought HOMURA did business with the Yakuza. You guys must be getting desperate."

Usagi recognizes him too, his uniform to be exact. "You're one of those Blues!"

He drops down from his perch. He rolls his eyes and has his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh? What made you think that?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I heard something about a trade shipment."

She doubts it. "Really?"

"Cocaine, was it?"

She shrugs. "I dunno."

He mutters in disgust. "Such sick, sad people."

She puts down the box and kicks it to the side. "You here for a fight?"

He walks forward. "Outta the way."

She smirks. She's been in need of a fight, to vent out all her feelings. "Bite me."

His smirk is wider than hers. "Why the fuck not." He draws his sabre, "Fushimi, ready for emergency battle." And kisses the blade tenderly.

She wears imported titanium knuckles and charges without a second word or thought, aiming for the jaw, the cheek, the nose, the shoulder, and the chest.

He evades each of them perfectly, and counters with a strike to her neck, then her forehead, and then her stomach with the hilt of his sword. She counters each with a kick, a hook, and a punch.

She acknowledges his skill as she dodges a series of stabbing moves. "Can't hit a girl, punk?"

He cuts through air and surprises her with a roundhouse kick to her shoulder. "As if you can."

She stumbles and falls face forward, but rolls away before his foot meets her head. She stands up and wipes her chin. "That all you got?"

He charges his blade this time, feeling jolts of lightning dance across his fingertips. "I wasn't even trying."

She charges hers too, feeling a rush of heat from her shoulder blades going to her hands. "SCEPTER4, huh?"

He cuts the air with three slashes, sending lightning blades towards her. "Yeah."

She negates them with a blast of fire from her hands. She glares at him. "It's all your fault."

He complains, shrugging off her next attack with his hand. "What the hell did we do?"

She charges, she's been best a melee compared to ranged attacks anyway. She aims a kick to his knee. She exclaims, "Akari!"

He stops it with his hand and throws her aside, "That bitch?"

She counters with a jab of her knee to his chin, "Don't call her that."

He counters with an open palm strike to her stomach. He smirks. "Make me."

She's thrown off and lies on her side. He takes the opportunity to speak in an arrogant tone. "I know a lot about her. She's been in the criminal industry since she was born. Forced to do whatever—plant a bomb, steal some cash, act as a diversion, name it and she's probably done it."

She sits up, panting. "Why are you telling me? I already know that."

He takes a few strides forward. "Then what happened to her parents?"

"They died, got murdered by some crazed would-be investor in France. Wants the Yakuza to do some big-time heist in the Louvre, I guess."

"They didn't die."

"What?"

"Spoiler alert, they ditched her."

"No, they didn't."

"They did the heist."

"But how could they—"

He's read this before. "She was about fifteen then, young and stubborn. She didn't want to do it. She had a thing for the arts. The investor had a thing for it too; he wanted to have Van Gogh on his bedroom wall."

She looks blankly towards the horizon. "So if you piece it together—"

"They made a run for the money, left her in France, and just vanished after the heist."

"Where do you think they are?"

He shrugs, as if losing interest in the subject. "Europe. Maybe Belgium, or Germany, depends on their itinerary."

"What's on the agenda?"

"As if I'd tell you."

"You brought it up."

"Whatever."

She looks up at him. "But have you guys ever told her?"

"What?"

"That her parents are still alive."

"Not in a million years."

She scoffs. "Then fuck you liars. No wonder he calls you a bunch of dirty-talking, power-hungry psychos."

He's a foot away from her. "Who?"

She rolls her eyes. "Like I'd tell you." She shoots out a leg, spins, tripping him.

_Round two._

* * *

Akari has dreams sometimes, and it scares her how some of her dreams are composed of utter darkness and plain voices.

But this time it's her voice,_ "I think I should do it."_

And a man's voice,_ "No, no—just stay…there."_

She starts getting a clearer picture. She sees two silhouettes chest-to-chest. It's her voice again and it sounds muffled, _"Whatever you want, but we can't stay outside."_

She can't remember whose voice it is. _"Why?"_

Laughter. _"It's embarrassing."_

_"It isn't."_

_"Here. Just. Let me."_ She hears the sounds of a lock clicking open, a door swinging open and then slamming closed, hands slapping against skin—

The image brightens; the environment is distorted and is something out of a Dali painting. She hears his voice again, _"You shouldn't have done that."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because."_

_"We don't live in the Middle Ages."_

She hears a sound of a kiss. _"But you drink like you do."_

_"And I'll take that as a compliment."_

_"Of course you would."_

She hears the sound of fabric dropping. It's her voice that sounds melancholic, _"You don't even know it's me, do you?"_

_"Who?"_

_"Your worst nightmare."_

_"Oh."_

She hears the sounds of kisses across skin, light giggles, and gentle moans. _"Hm.. Don't do that."_

_"This?"_

She hears them again, but louder this time. _"Yes. That."_

_"But it makes you—smile."_

_"Whatever."_

She feels as if he's saying this to her, the actual sleeping her. _"I love you."_

_"You don't love me."_

_"Why?"_

_"You're drunk."_

* * *

She is interrupted by a not-so-gentle pull on her hair. "Ow! What now—"

It was the pretty Awashima Seri. "Wake up."

She sees that this is the interrogation room and she's not wearing any handcuffs, also that she's wearing the same wedding dress, she can't remember how many days have passed since. She's seated on a metal chair with her head lying on the metal table in front of her. "Am I free to go?"

The blonde woman stopped at the door. "Regrettably no."

"Then what am I doing here?"

"Captain wants to speak with you."

"What this about this time? The bomb?"

"Our bomb disposal team is on the case."

She laughs mockingly. "As if they'd find it in time."

The door opens, and Seri exits, "Captain,"

Lo and behold, he stands in his passively arrogant stance. "Thank you, Awashima-kun."

She says disinterestedly. "What do you want?" He sets a folder in front of her. "What's this?"

He takes a seat across from her. "Read it."

She does, and her eyes widen with each passing paragraph. She says to herself, "No."

He replies for her, "Yes."

She sets s down with an unnecessary force. "You must be crazy."

"Not as crazy as you."

She grips onto the folder a bit too tightly. "Why?"

He nods. "Because."

She is determined to squeeze the answer out of him. "Because what? Don't chop your words, Munakata."

"You have no right to command me."

She tosses the folder over to him and glares, "You have no right to shove this in my face! Just what am I to you, huh? Some disposable—"

"Indispensable would be the right term."

She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. "Don't make me laugh."

He leans in. "I'm serious. I've been considering that you—"

She stops him, and says in an accusing tone, "What? That I work for you?"

"With me."

She leans back in doubt and in disbelief. "Oh, that I'll work with you, that's your term? Please don't sugarcoat things. You and I both know that it's not 'working with you', but 'working for you, but with subtle benefits'. "

"Subtle benefits?"

She hates him for how she can't tell whether he's acting or he's real. "Don't act as if you don't know what they are. Your boy's constantly saying things in my face."

"For example?"

She wipes her palm over her head. She rolls her eyes and shouts at him, rising from her seat. "Don't act stupid—your whore! Your fucking whore, Reisi!" She doesn't realize that she's used his name for what seems to be the empth time.

He replies simply, "We're not."

She laughs at it to hide the feeling of insult and of defeat. She can feel her eyes brimming with tears and she hates it even more. "I know we aren't, but that's just disgusting isn't it? I'm labeled as some whore, and you're being named as someone who is just so desperate for physical satisfaction. You've got higher standards and I've got better tastes, but in the end we're labeled as a pair and that's completely unjustified."

He pauses and thinks whether or not to reply, but he does, "Isn't that a bit shallow for you?"

She wipes her tears with the back of her hand and forgets why she cried in front of him. "In the society, it's always been about labels and names and gossip and telltale rumors that you haven't even heard about until it reaches you, but when it does everyone else in town knows and there's nothing you can do about it."

He smirks, offering her some comfort. "I thought you didn't abide by society's rules."

"It's not a rule, it's a statement. There's a difference."

"Either way you're a nonconformist, aren't you?"

She shrugs. "Nonconformity is based on society's norms, and labels are part of the grey area between conformity and nonconformity. It applies to both."

He still thinks that she'll say 'yes' eventually. "So that's your reason."

"Not completely, unless you take it as it is."

He leans in, showing her obvious signs of interest. "Do elaborate."

She smiles and whispers, "I have a feeling this isn't about the recruitment anymore."

"Was it from the beginning?"

She chuckles. "Deviant."

"Rebel."

She inhales and exhales. She nods once. "I guess we're living how society dictates we live."

He agrees with her. "We aren't as different as you may think, Akari." And uses her name for the first time.

At that point, she just might say 'yes'.

* * *

Usagi is thrown off, again. After some hooks, kicks, punches, slaps, dodges, she's tired and she's lying facedown on the ground. "What the hell—that was foul!"

She feels cold steel on her neck. His tone is laced with sadistic glee. "And so is this."

She doesn't even have time to say her prayers. "Shit—"

* * *

A/N: A classic cliffhanger, and that's actually something new for this kind of writing style. Read and review?


	18. cell warrior

Cancerous

A/N: As of March 23, 2013 I am now an incoming college student. I finally graduated from high school, and I guess this my graduation gift from myself to you awesome readers. Hey, so I finally freed myself from the four years of torture and self-destruction, and I'm on my way to destroy whatever there is obstructing my way to freedom. I updated pretty slow this time… I've just got lots of stuff on my mind.

Here's chapter 18.

* * *

"I knew you weren't the type to dance around, but this is beyond belief, Saru."

It's amazing for fortified aluminum can stop a steel blade from severing a head, and Yata knows this. Saruhiko's pushed away by some yards and that gives enough time for Usagi to recover.

The blade-wielder scowls and then gives a wide, mocking grin. "It's nice to see you again, Misaki."

He shudders at how Saruhiko says his name. "Don't call me that."

"Wouldn't you like to introduce me to your friend there, Misaki?" He points his blade to Usagi, who's sitting up and wiping the sweat and blood off her chin.

Yata shrugs. "Not really."

Usagi mutters, "Who is he?"

He whispers back. "No one important."

Though that was loud enough for Saruhiko to hear. He growls, moving to stand in an offensive position. "I hate being ignored, Misaki."

He smirks, placing the bat on his shoulder and readying his skateboard. "Then you've got my full attention now."

He gets to strike at Saruhiko once, twice, before he's pushed away and beside Usagi.

She pulls him by the shoulder and glares at him. "What the hell are you doing!"

He's dumbfounded and annoyed by this, "I was just trying to help!"

She retaliates. "I don't need your help. I was perfectly fine on my own!"

Saruhiko overhears their argument and comments, "I never thought you'd get a girl like that, Misaki, in fact I can't believe that you got one."

Usagi deadpans, glaring at Saruhiko, "We're not dating."

He sighs and gives a mocking grin. "Pity. Guess he's still a cherry boy."

She nods and charges right at him. "You have no idea."

She aims an uppercut to his chin, a fist to his shoulder, and a kick to his side, and he counters them all with a slash, a kick, and a slap. Little did he know—

"Up here, Saru!"

Usagi jumps away, letting Yata fall with a whirlwind of fire down to Saruhiko's head. He manages to prevent it from scalding him with a burst of electricity from his blade.

Yata smirks, evading a rushing kick, "After all these years, Saru."

He frowns, "Nothing's changed, Misaki." And continues to strike at him with a leveled ferocity.

Yata laughs at it and spins his board to create a whirlwind of fire.

Saruhiko brushes it off and sends lightning blades towards Misaki.

Yata wonders why Saruhiko hasn't used his daggers yet. He might've left HOMURA, but he still had those daggers, right? Which means that he still remembers how it felt like to have a family, and that HOMURA has a place for his might-be-nonexistent heart, right? Unless—

He dodges three consecutive stabs to his chest, and counters his three hits to the shoulder—all evaded.

Neither of them wonders why the girl was just sitting there, seeming to be in deep thought.

"They're too involved with each other." Usagi watches them in secret envy, not that she wanted to join in—she does—but she sees the compatibility, the way they contrast and compliment each other's movements, offense and defense, and remembers her and Akari.

"Bite back, Usagi!"

"It's no fair unless you do too!"

"I'm trying the best that I can."

"I bet you're sitting in a café."

"Got that right. I'm down to the last firewall."

"Hope you get it right the first time. These guys can't pack a punch."

"There…and…there. You can walk right in the vault. I've hacked the security cameras so that the recording plays instead of real-time video."

"How much do we need again?"

"As much you like, princess, but we'd need ten thousand for the Silver Trade."

"As always."

The sudden flash of light and the sound of static electricity stopped her recollection.

A blonde-haired woman stood from her perch atop an empty container. She scoffs, sheathing her blade, "Oi, oi, stop this!"

Yata wipes the sweat off his forehead and looks at the woman incredulously. "Who're you?"

Saruhiko stares at her disinterestedly. "What are you doing here?"

She jumps down from her perch and struts down an imaginary catwalk. She rolls her eyes once she's by Saruhiko's side. "SCEPTER4's a police force, not some random gang, Fushimi."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

Usagi calls out, standing up from her seated position. "You're part of SCEPTER4, too?"

She cranes her head over to her, a mocking smirk on her face, "Name's Watanabe Akane," She turns to Usagi and Yata, her tone becoming cocky and prideful, "Now get going kids. The docks isn't a place for you."

Yata rolls his head in annoyance, and smirks, "You don't know, huh?"

"That you're part of HOMURA? Oh I know." Akane makes a face of disgust; "I can smell it from yards away."

Saruhiko says under his breath, "Were you following me?"

She steps forward, placing her hand on the hilt of her sword. "You were up to no good, anyway."

Yata glances at Usagi from the corner of his eye and she does the same. They nod at each other.

Usagi smirks and takes a step forward, the titanium knuckles fitted to her fingers. "Well, if that's the case, here's how I say hello, Watanabe-chan."

* * *

"Mikoto." The little girl turns to him, lifting her head from the fruit shake.

He turns to her, a solemn look on his face. "What is it, Anna?"

The bar's even darker than how it should be during the daytime.

She blinks once. "There's a storm coming." And goes back to her drink.

He leans back on his seat and feels a nip in the air. "You're right." He turns to their other companion, "Izumo, where are they?"

The bartender replies without looking from his collection of authentic Italian wines. "From what I know, they're all helping Totsuka-san with his short film."

"It's going to rain."

He looks at Mikoto using the mirror on the cabinet, and gives a smile. "Hopefully they'll get back soon."

Mikoto hasn't heard of this, or maybe he has. "Totsuka's short film?"

He shrugs. "It's more of a documentary than anything. He wants to be spontaneous."

Mikoto looks at him through the mirror and gives a smile of his own. "Then he should've done something with that girl."

Anna smiles at this.

"Who?"

"The one who tried to shoot me in the head."

Izumo averts his eyes. "She's more crazy than spontaneous."

Mikoto chuckles and Izumo thinks of mockery rather than amusement.

Anna asks him before Mikoto does, "You like her?"

He reassures the girl, turning to her and giving a kind, though forced, smile. "Not that I hate her or anything, Anna, she's just intolerable."

She concludes, "She was here."

Mikoto adds, "You went out the other day."

He defends himself, raising his hands to his shoulders, "It had nothing to do with her whatsoever."

Anna shakes her head. "Nope. You're lying."

Mikoto agrees with her and pats her on the head, "Even Anna knows it."

Izumo thinks they're both against him, and gives solid evidence of his dislike; "Hey Mikoto, you do know that she set a rocket to explode near HOMURA, right?"

Mikoto sighs, not surprised by what could have been a daring act. "I could care less. Your girl might be a lunatic with a grenade, but all she has ever done was out of fear."

Izumo raises a brow. "What?"

Anna restates it, "She's afraid."

Mikoto hums in agreement, before looking straight at Izumo. "She's been one to deal with the Silver Trade, huh?"

"She's been in lots of things."

He chuckles. "Even with Munakata, right?"

Izumo sounds distant and far-off. "Yeah."

There's a moment of silence before Anna speaks, "She's going to die if she doesn't run."

Mikoto looks down at his drink, a serving of whiskey on the rocks, and then back to Izumo. "She would have been a great addition to HOMURA, Izumo."

He has his back to them was polishing the wine bottles. He stops. "Mikoto—"

"She likes setting things on fire."

Izumo likes to think that it's a literal sentence, not a figurative one—it's not his heart anyway.

* * *

He slams the door closed on his way in. "This isn't the time for mind games, Naoki."

The room is too dark too see the pizza boxes and bottles of energy drinks, but still a bright enough to distinguish the silhouette of a man sitting across a series of monitors and keyboards, typing rapidly with his eyes darting from screen to screen.

The said person gives a faint smile to welcome the intruder, and swivels his chair away from the series of monitors and keyboards. "I'm thinking. I'm thinking, Osamu. You wouldn't understand because you weren't raised in the ranks of deception and elusiveness."

The other person sighs and takes a seat in front of him. "Why would we deceive them? We could just attack them head-on, without any warning, leave them to defend themselves."

Yasumaru blinks, leans in, and whispers disappointedly, "I thought you lived under a code of honor."

Dachi bites his lips together before replying, "My father did."

He looks down, swivels his chair back to the monitors and keyboards, and continues typing. "Hm, seems like your neo-samurai dream is coming to an end."

"What makes you think that?"

He pauses his fingers, "Where's the honor in you, Daichi?"

He scoffs, "Gone."

"You know," Yasumaru cranes his neck to look at Daichi, "I've always thought you'd be the strong one between us."

He glares back at him, his voice a bit louder than usual. "What makes you think that I'm not?"

He turns back to his work of puzzle codes and program commands. "I didn't say anything, I was just—"

Daichi stands up, and turns on his heel, his hand on the doorknob, ready to turn it and leave. "Then shut the fuck up, Yasu. Shut the fuck up and do what I told you to."

The other man chuckles. "I'm already done."

He looks back, his face in disbelief. "Really."

Yasumaru swivels his chair back to face Daichi, nods, and gives a wide smile. "I am. I'm a nocturnal worker remember? I work better in the dark."

Daichi smirks, his anger dissolving away into the darkness. "Then let's get to it then."

He goes back to typing. "What about your part of the scheme?"

Daichi walks forward until he's beside Yasumaru. "It's not a scheme. It's a mission. And I'm the one who's going to end it all."

He speaks sarcastically. "I do all the work and you get the glory? Sounds fun."

"You're a ninja. I'm a samurai. You live on in the shadows while I bask in the sunlight, that's what we are."

Yasumaru stops typing, and looks up at Daichi with a serious face. "I thought we were friends."

He takes it the wrong way and replies, "I thought she was my friend too."

Yasumaru sighs, shakes his head, and types in the next string of commands. He replies after a heavy moment, "This isn't about her, Daichi."

"This has everything to do with her. She was the one who left us."

He doesn't stop, nor look up. "The Yakuza, the Silver Trade; she was running from them."

Yasmaru knows how Daichi is sensitive when talking about her.

Daichi's voice becomes louder. "And do you think that gives her the right to run from us, too?"

"She was afraid."

"Was, Yasu. She was. Now she just bombed the whole hell outta a bank."

Yasmaru hates how Daichi overreacts. "What makes that so important? She did these things before like it was a hobby."

Daichi pauses and then says, "It's near HOMURA."

Yasumaru cocks his head to Daichi's side. "I don't think they know about us."

He starts walking away. "Not yet, or unless she connects us into it."

Yasumaru inquires like it's nothing at all. "Do you know why she did it?"

Daichi smiles bitterly. "I'm assuming she's just bored."

Yasmaru smiles to himself in sweet recollection of a girl with her hair flying in the wind and the image of a building set on fire behind her, "Just like the old times, huh?"

Daichi places his hand on the doorknob and turns. "She misses us."

Yasumaru nods in faint assurance. "I hope she does."

"Then she's bound to come back."

Daichi exits and leaves the door open, sending Yasumaru an unwelcomed ray of light.

* * *

He repeats. "Would you?"

She doesn't look up at him. "I wouldn't. Not for the world."

He is quick to fill her with promises. "I can give it to you."

She knows he can and he might, but asks still, "What?"

He places his hand on the table so that it's right beside hers, his little finger brushing against her thumb. "The world. That's what you've wanted, right?"

"What makes you think I'll take it?"

"Keep reading."

So she does, she picks up the paper with her other hand and continues. She'd rather do it than to look at him. She sighs and lowers the paper from her face. "Look, I don't really understand what's going on with you, but—"

He's managed to surprise her by having a silver ring in between his thumb and index finger right in front of her face.

She's forced to look at it and then at him.

"Would you?" He asked her and she's assured that this isn't about recruitment anymore.

She says slowly, not in surprise, but in disgust. "What is that."

"A ring."

She closes her eyes, and recoils her hands to her knees, willing the ring and him to go away. "Why?"

He lowers the ring to the table and pushes it towards her. "I told you I'd marry you."

She props her elbow on the table, leans her forehead on her palm, and sighs loudly in frustration. "You can't take a joke, can you?"

He considers the most recent event, "The bomb, the bank, the dress?"

She blinks and hangs her mouth agape at his lack of intellect. He's acting like a child and she wants it to stop.

She explains, "I'm eccentric."

He changes the topic. "I should've given you flowers that day."

She rolls her eyes, just because this piques her interest, "To make it all the more ironic. What did you plan to give me?"

"I was thinking of phloxes or jonquils."

She's read enough about flowers when she was in high school to know what they mean. It sickens her a little. She replies and gives flowers that would describe them, their relationship. "Maybe you should've given me columbines or yellow carnations."

He assures her and his hand on the table reaches for her, "You deserve better."

"Better than wilting flowers or petty affections, yes?"

"You deserve the world."

She closes her eyes and laughs, "You do know the right words to flatter a girl," Her face suddenly becomes impassive as she replies, "Too bad I'm not the least pleased by it."

He leans in, smirking, "Actions are louder than words."

She leans in and mocks him, "Still, your bite is weaker than your bark."

His breath is by her cheek and she finds her eyes looking down to his lips, "Would you care to check?"

She tilts her head lower, her lips about to meet his, but she recoils to her seat. She inhales a particularly heavy breath. "Don't. You'll make the situation worse."

He's good at feigning innocence. "What situation?"

She says curtly, "This. You and I. Me and you. This."

He nods. "Us."

She shakes her head. "Not us. This partnership is anything but professional anymore."

"Wouldn't you like it to be?"

She doesn't know if he's asking for them to revert to their old relationship, or to officially cross the line, or to keep this game up. She stares at him right in the eyes. "I'm called your whore around here. Even that pretty Awashima shudders in my presence. She thinks that I smell like you. It's sickening me."

He was a top-student, and he still remembers his lessons from middle school. "Wouldn't you want to be Theodora?"

She cocks an eyebrow at him. "And you would be Justinian?"

He's confident and he's cocky. "Who else would he be?"

"I'd rather be Cleopatra and you be Caesar."

He knows that she'll leave the blame to him. He might even die because of her, but he hopes that doesn't happen too soon, if at all.

He stands up from his seat and takes a long look at her. "Whatever makes you happy."

She says after a while, when his hand is on the doorknob. "No. I wouldn't want to be married to you."

He cranes his neck to look at her. "Not yet."

She cracks a smile and lifts her head up to look at him. She orders him because she doesn't know if she can, "Get me a bottle of gin, would you? I need some alcohol in my system. It's been days."

He pauses for a second, and his reply causes a scream that is rendered mute within the interrogation room's walls,

"Whatever you want, _wifey_."

She's still a state of shock even after a bottle of gin is delivered to her cell.

* * *

A/N: (I might have killed myself with Reisi's last line.) Wow, a lot of things happened this time… So how do you like "Cancerous" so far? I know, I'm still hanging on who Akari ends up with, but it's more likely that she ends up with no one at all.

Reviews keep me on track; so review, review, review.


	19. bug

Cancerous

A/N: I might only update once a month like most manga. There have been issues with the current storyline and me losing motivation.

* * *

"I don't want you here."

She's finished a quarter of the bottle, her dress wrinkled and stained with dust, dirt, sweat, and alcohol residue.

The fourth wall disappears and a man emerges from the hallway before the wall assembles itself again.

He says from the shadows, "You certainly don't look it."

She rolls her eyes at the familiarity of the voice. "I need to drown myself in guilt and gin. Alone."

Munakata Reisi. "Why?"

She shrugs and takes a swing before saying, "I don't need to tell you why."

He steps close to the foot of the bed. "I want to know what the reason is."

"You don't have to."

"Is it someone's death anniversary?"

She remembers the time when she was left by the Yakuza. "No."

"A past relationship?"

She remembers two boys from four years ago. "No."

"Then what is it?"

She grunts and takes another swing. "Stop asking questions."

"Stop drinking, before you hurt anyone."

She smirks bitterly to herself. "The only things I can do require a computer, which I don't have access to right now. I'm harmless."

"But your words aren't."

She turns her head at him this time with watery eyes and blushing cheeks. She gives him a mocking smile. "I don't see you crying, Munakata."

"Maybe you don't need to."

She shrugs before putting the bottle's mouth to her bottom lip. She squints her eyes. "Fine."

He blinks once and sighs. "Alright."

There is a period of silence before she asks loudly, annoyed at his presence, "Why are you still here? Can't you just leave?"

He flashes her a smile. "I don't want to let my future wife kill herself with an empty bottle of gin."

She wipes her palm over her forehead. "You are as dense as they get, Munakata. You heard me once; I have no intention of joining or marrying you. I was joking. You know what a joke is, right?"

"Well, I do." He might be joking, and at the same time he might actually have the intention to marry her.

"Now that's just stupid."

"Not for any personal reason." He doesn't think of her with white roses, or pearls, of even with this ridiculous wedding dress.

She coughs. "Then why do you?"

"I want to help you." But he thinks of her with mocking smirks, empty promises, bombs, and blocked signals.

She scoffs, placing the bottle in between her knees. "Help me? Get me outta here, and I'll help you. No strings attached."

"Is there a catch?"

"You know there is."

He shakes his head, "As expected, so no."

"No?"

"No. I'm not letting you free, until I have a guarantee that you won't endanger Shizume City."

"You think I'm endangering Shizume City?"

"Of course. With your ties to MASANORI and PHOENIX, you're bound to conspire a rebellion against the government."

She's long forgotten those two names. "Do you think I'm an anarchist? Gods, why does everyone think that?"

"Hm?"

"Just because I use bombs, it doesn't automatically mean that I am an anarchist bound to destroy the reigning government." Actually, she likes the government.

"Then what are you planning?"

She's told him this before. "To destroy the King system."

"What do you think to gain from destroying us? Hypothetically speaking."

She shrugs because she doesn't really know. "Freedom. A sense of equality. A normal life. Discounts as high-end bars. Getting my ass outta here an onto a plane bound for nowhere. The usual."

"You can achieve those without doing any of these."

"Maybe I'm hoping to gain something bigger."

"Which is?"

"I don't know. Just something bigger than life itself, I guess."

"You don't know what you're doing."

Maybe she does, maybe she just hasn't admitted it to herself yet. "You really want to know why I do these things, Munakata?"

"Of course, who wouldn't?"

She calls him by his last name because she doesn't want anything to do with him when her plan comes out successful. "Have you ever imagined life without Kings, Munakata?"

"No. Not really."

"Of course, because you're a king. You're entitled to the privileges and the benefits of being a King."

He raises a brow. "Which are?"

"First, there's the power; second, the command; third, the priority; fourth, the influence; and fifth, the luxury; and you get it all with just a flick of the wrist, a snap of the finger, a kiss on the lips, and a slap on the cheek. It's unfair."

He shakes his head at her one-sided notion, "You don't understand."

She snaps all of a sudden, as if he's insulted her. "I understand completely. You think it's fine for you to live in such luxury with such power, influence, and command over your members without even lifting a finger to get it? Some people already ended up dead just to have a peek at your kind of life."

"No. You don't."

"I do." She takes a quick, painful swing. "What else is there to understand?"

He lowers his head and whispers, "It wasn't my choice to be King."

"Then whose was it?"

He whispers, "Kings are cursed from the start."

"By who?"

"The Immortal King." Their creator, the original and the first King.

"Why did he choose you, or any of the Kings?"

"I don't know. He's an enigma. No King has ever spoken with him, other than the Gold King."

There's a silence and the atmosphere grows thicker and heavier. She breathes out, feeling sad for him. "You're a curse."

"Cursed with this kind of life."

She leans from the wall and crawls to the corner of her bed. "Would you tell me about it?"

He's quick to become cold. "No."

And she doesn't like him being cold and stoic. "Let's trade. Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

"I'm not so sure about that."

She leans back to the wall, stretches her leg, and raises her bottle to him. "There's no catch, only a half-empty bottle of gin left for us to share."

He smiles a little. "I never thought you'd share your liquor."

She pats the place next to her, silently asking him to sit beside her. "For times like this, I would."

He does. "Wifey."

She closes her eyes and snorts, she feels uncomfortable, especially with his thumb pressing against her thigh. "Stop that. Shut up about marriage. It's disgusting, especially when you're sitting next to me, Munakata."

He decides to her formal this time. "Miss Akari."

She hands him the bottle and he takes it with both hands. "Yes?"

"You seem to be very welcoming today."

She clears her throat. "Just to be clear, I have no interest in you, sexual or not."

"Neither do I."

"Take a swing, tell me your story, and we'll be alright." She nods. "Reisi, can I call you that?"

He isn't new to this. "You already have."

* * *

Akane's blade cuts into Usagi's shoulder. "Given up yet, kid?"

Usagi grunts and presses her fingers into the shallow wound. "Shut the hell up, pigtails."

She evades a kick to the hip and blocks an elbow to the chest. "Just run, I won't chase you or your boyfriend."

Usagi shudders. "He's not. That's gross."

Akane jumps back, changing into a defensive stance. "Pity. I thought you two looked good together."

She points to the two males furiously striking at each other and notices their heated stares. "Look at them, old lady. They've practically got sex eyes for each other."

Akane does and notes, "That's sick."

Usagi smirks and delivers a roundhouse-kick to Akane's jaw. "And you're still looking!"

"Bitch!"

"Speak for yourself."

* * *

Saruhiko notices Yata's fleeting glances towards Usagi. "Eyes on me, Misaki."

"Outta the way, Saru." He delivers a strike to Saruhiko's rib.

He blocks it and counters with a fist to Yata's jaw. "What?"

He catches it with an open palm. "I wasn't looking for a fight, honestly."

Saruhiko bashes his forehead against Yata's, and whispers maliciously, "You always did, Misaki, what makes this one so different?"

Yata flushes and grinds his teeth in anger. "I was just looking out for her."

Saruhiko pushes him away and laughs. "You got yourself a girl? That's really surprising."

Yata catches himself before he falls on the ground; he jumps high in the air and aims his bat for Saruhiko's head. "No. She's a friend."

He blocks it with his blade. "Doesn't look like it."

He maneuvers a kick to Saruhiko's neck. "I swear, she is."

Saruhiko grabs Misaki's ankles before it hits him and pulls him to the ground. He towers over him, and glares intensely at him. "Don't lie, Misaki. You know how I hate people who lie."

Misaki spats out, "Says the traitor."

* * *

Akane throws off Usagi's fist and calls to Saruhiko, "Oi! Fushimi! Let's bail, we're wasting time with these kids."

He scoffs, kicking Yata on his side before jumping away. "Whatever you say."

Usagi runs after Akane, "You're a fucking coward!"

Yata slides his board to her, tripping her feet. "Usagi!"

She's facedown on the concrete, heaving and panting when Yata comes over to her, tired and sweaty.

Usagi screams before sitting up. She manages an angry comment, "The hell was that for? I was this close to kicking her sorry ass!"

He pats his hand on her head. "Don't. Just don't."

She's so frustrated right now. "Why?"

"HOMURA's not just a random gang. We're a family."

She retorts, slapping his hand away. "When I was with Akari, we'd—" She stops after realizing that it's been a long time since she mentioned or remembered Akari.

Yata doesn't know what they did, but offers her some comfort. "I know."

She stands on her own, dusting her shoulder and grunting when her hand passes by the open wound. "Just—let's get going then, before Suoh burns me over."

Yata follows her without another word.

* * *

Akari secretly wants him to cry. "So you're telling me that the Silver King just choses people at random?"

"Not really, but his methods are still unknown, so theoretically it's at random."

"How old were you?"

He remembers the time when blue skies and storms have no direct connevtion to each other, "I was nine years old when I woke up with a burning fever. My mother came up to be and touched me on the forehead, she backed away and looked at me like I was the Devil Incarnate."

She nods. "You are."

"She told me that it was like static electricity, like I was attached to a power outlet."

She pokes his arm. "I can't feel anything right now."

He ignores her. "I was summoned."

The way he said it makes her think of kidnapping. "You were kidnapped."

She's right. "By the Silver King himself. He took me to this airship and had me there for over three months. He trained me, taught me, and showed me the ways of being a King. By the time I got back, no one noticed me gone. It was like nothing happened."

"So how does being a King feel like, you know, after the entire thing with the Silver King?"

He want to go back to the days where lightning storms would go away just by sleeping in a warm blanket. "It wasn't by choice, I had to live up to the title."

Akari bites her lip before consoling him, "This might be an additional reason why I want to destroy the King system."

He grows silent, soft, and it's so unlike him. "What is?"

She places an arm around his shoulder, but she doesn't pull him to her. "You know, you could be like me."

He keeps her arm there. "I'd rather not."

She squeezes her hand on his shoulder. "You could be free to do whatever."

"That sounds nice."

She pats his shoulder before pressing her lips to his ear. "Now get me outta here and let me destroy the King system."

He slowly turns his head to her and feels her eyelashes over his eyelid, and her lips over his cheek, "What makes you think you can do that?"

She presses her smile hard enough to mark his cheek. "I'm crazy enough to try."

He pulls away from her and she lies on the bed. He steps away from her and her empty bottle of gin on the floor without a smile.

He's noticed that he hasn't even taken a sip from it, nor has he given her the ring she left in the interrogation room.

He drops the ring on the floor, hidden enough from her view, yet obvious enough for her to notice.

She lets the metallic sound echo through the area, together with his footsteps and her quiet sobbing.

* * *

Later that day, a bright explosion came from SCEPTER4's Quarantine Sector.

Reisi could only think, "Yes, you are an anarchist. An anarchist and a revolutionist."

* * *

A/N: Read and review? *sobs* I'm sorry if this fails to live up to your expectations. I'm trying to make this better.


	20. grandma's

Cancerous

A/N: Wow. I updated pretty fast?

* * *

_"I said no!"_

_He was looking over the sketches, the outlines, and the plans with a calm demeanor until everything fitted together._

_The one responsible for those plans was Akari, ecstatic, excited Akari. She laughed, "Why are you being so dense, Yasu?"_

_He started pacing to calm himself as he spoke shakily, "This is dangerous, if we're caught then it's off to the death sentence with us."_

_Daichi was also there in the room, caught up in a book. He looks up from it with an incredulous look on his face. "Death sentence? That was banned years ago. Life imprisonment's the deal now."_

_He turned to the yellow-eyed teenager with a look of fear on his face, "Then that's much worse!"_

_The said teenager brushes it off with a shrug, "Chill out, Yasu. It's not like we are going to get caught, right?"_

_The lone female in the group nods. "Right. Once I finish encoding, all I have to do nest is to get these codes into that security mainframe and then we're good for phase 2."_

_Daichi steps down from the table he was sitting on and says, "Operation Dethrone sounds perfect."_

_She agrees with a wide grin before Daichi disappears out the door with the book in his hand. "It is."_

_There was a bout of silence before either one of Akari and Yasumaru spoke._

_He hesitated a bit. "Akari?"_

_She could only think of his nervousness right now, and reassures him this, "Yasu, if you want out, you're free to go. I'm not holding any of the both of you like guard dogs."_

_It's not that he wants out of it, really. "I don't. It's just—"_

_She misinterprets his hesitation for something else. "You and Daichi are next in line to be Kings of your respective clans, I get that. If you don't want to do this, if you think that you'd be a better King than your father, then it's fine." She stops typing and looks at him with a smile. "I trust you."_

_"It's not about that, Akari."_

_"Then what's it about?"_

_He whispers, "I'm scared."_

_She stands up and walks over to him. She pats his head like an older sibling would. "There's no reason to be, Yasu. We'll be fine. We've always been fine."_

_He flushes and admits truth, "I'm scared for you."_

_She sighs, "Yasu." She closes her eyes and reopens them, only to be staring at his forlorn face, "Please. Stop with this sentimentality. You know I can do this, and I can do this perfectly."_

_He bites his lips into a thin line before saying, "Daichi's been moving."_

_She scrunches her eyebrows a bit. "He always is."_

_"He's moving under the command of his father."_

_She shrugs. She knows who the Green King is, and she isn't one of the few who aren't afraid to go against that man. "What so surprising about that? With a dad like that, I doubt anyone wouldn't follow orders."_

_He says this quickly under his breath, "They've built compressors to absorb the explosive blast in the area."_

_"What?"_

_He looks her in the eyes this time, saying this slowly and clearly. "MASANORI has compressors that will absorb the blast in the area. Technically rendering the explosion harmless."_

_She doesn't believe him. "You're joking."_

_"They're going to use it against the Silver and the Gold King." He decides to show her proof._

_He gets his PDA out of his pocket and connects it to one of the many computers in the room. He skims over files and folders until he spots a file named, "OP. DE. - Lampiere" and reveals a design of a blast absorber that was made to look like a lamppost. It was signed by his name, Osamu Daichi._

_She clenches her first and vows to make him regret. "That bastard. How did you know?"_

_Yasumaru disconnects his PDA from the computer. "He told me once the blueprints for Operation Dethrone were secured."_

_She seethes, anger evident in her voice. "You knew from the very start and you didn't tell me? What the fuck, Yasu? You're helping him?"_

_"It was for the best."_

_She's noticed some of the descriptions on the Lampiere were written in Yasumaru's hand. "For the best? How is this for the best? You're going against me!"_

_He thinks that she doesn't understand, that she refuses to understand. "Akari—"_

_She only knows one side of the story. He thinks that it wouldn't be so hard if she understood it like they do. She shouts at him, "Both of you! You're just a bunch of self-absorbed bastards. What am I to you?"_

_He's so disappointed at how she's acting. They did this for her. She ought to be happy that the blast wouldn't be all for naught, after all, their main targets were the Gold and the Silver King. This attack on one of the Red clan's territories was just for show, to let people know that they weren't powerless against these kinds of people who hail themselves as "King"._

_Sure, he and Daichi might be heirs, but that doesn't mean that they chose to be. "Akari—"_

_She grits her teeth. "Answer me, Yasumaru."_

_He reaches out to her. "You're a friend."_

_She smacks his arm away. "And friends lie and use each other, don't they? Don't tell me the thing we did last month was just to secure PHOENIX's territory."_

_He was silent because it was true._

_"Oh, so it was." She laughs bitterly at her own stupidity._

_He drops excuses, "It's not like I planned it to happen. It was only coincidentally that—"_

_She mutters, "Coincidence my ass." She raises her voice, jabbing a finger to his chest, "You know very well that it's PHOENIX's territory and that you, as next-in-line-to-the-throne should do everything in order to secure it."_

_He apologizes, feeling bad for himself. "I'm sorry."_

_"I'm not mad. I'm just frustrated. I thought the three of us could take over the world, even if our world is just Shizume city. I guess I was wrong."_

_What she wanted was impossible. As much as they wanted to do whatever they want, the triple-threat of duty, responsibility, and bloodlines were against them. She was a normal human, abandoned by what she thought to be family. They were heirs, the children of Kings, who were never given a choice in the matter. They wanted to rule out the world's laws and make their own. They wanted to escape, to live life anew._

_He stares at her seated form. He pauses before asking softly, "What are you planning to do now?"_

_She slaps her own cheek before stalking to the door. "Daichi's an idiot."_

_She slams the door behind her and proceeds to drag her feet to the other place Daichi was known to be, the kitchen._

* * *

_She says to him the moment she's set foot inside the tiled room. "I'm out."_

_He doesn't understand her grudging stance or her lowered voice. "What? What are you saying?"_

_She repeats, "I want out."_

_He gets it now and thinks her stupid. "No, you don't. You're the one who planned all this and you're saying that you want out?"_

_"I want out, Daichi. I'm tired of this."_

_"Tired of what? You were so ecstatic about this, you planned everything down to the details."_

_"Were."_

_He starts panicking a little bit, careful not to spill his soda. "What, what happened? Power outage? Security updates? What?"_

_She hisses, "Motherfucker." She smacks the soda can out of his hand and shouts at him, "You don't even know, do you?"_

_"What the fuck was that?" His hand recoils from the sudden pain, "Akari!"_

_She announces as she's turned her back to him, "I'm leaving."_

_He shouts after her, "Then leave! I don't know what the hell's going on with you, but sure. You go on right ahead and leave." He already knows why she's leaving and mocks her, "It's not like you can do it on your own."_

_"Try me."_

_She marches up the stairs and into her "base", disconnecting monitors and CPUs, cutting wires and cables, and stashing papers and folders into boxes._

_She leaves an hour later with a heavy bag of two laptops, two boxes filled with files and folders, and three LCD monitors and two CPUs. She left without a wave goodbye, riding inside a taxicab filled smelling of cheap perfume and leather._

* * *

_Later that day, Daichi and Yasumaru talk inside what once was Akari's base of operations._

_Daichi takes a sip of beer from his can. "You told her, didn't you?"_

_Yasumaru was looking out the window and into the city sunset. "She was bound to know eventually."_

_"Couldn't it wait until the mission was over?"_

_"If it did, then she'd wreak havoc on you and me."_

_He takes a large gulp this time. "How do you know?"_

_"I saw her file. It was an executable program that was mapped into several bombs in the building. If she gets mad, then we're blown."_

_Daichi shrugs. "Then she goes down with us."_

_"No. She's planned for it to explode when she calls up a certain number on her phone."_

_He rolls his eyes. "Freakin' brilliant. Now she's gone and she can blow us up at anytime."_

_Yasumaru turns to him and smiles. "No. The bombs won't explode."_

_"Really?"_

_"She hasn't planted any of them yet. I have her log right here." He picks up a piece of paper on the desk that she might have deliberately left, and hands it to Daichi._

_He reads over it and curses, "Fuckin' hackers. You know everything, don't you?"_

_He shrugs. "Not everything. She has encrypted files that I haven't been able to crack yet."_

_He closes his eyes and finishes the rest of his drink. "Then forget about those and forget about her." He tosses the can to a corner. "She left us."_

_"I loved her."_

_Daichi smirks at this. "And did she love you?"_

_"I think she did."_

_Yasumaru likes to think so._

* * *

_A few months ago;_

_He called her up one time __and invited her to the rooftop of a condominium with four cans of soda and two large bags of chips._

_It was five in the afternoon on that Friday night. He was in disbelief when he saw her in a thin-strapped summer dress and sneakers coming from the door._

_She gave him a thumbs up and a smile. "You outdid yourself this time, Yasu."_

_He scratches the back of his head and replies sheepishly, "It's the time first I've ever done this."_

_"A first for both of us, then." She picks out two chilled cans of soda from the bucket._

_He asks as she hands him a can, "What's Daichi up to this time?"_

_She shrugs as she opens it. "Oh, you know, the usual stuff."_

_He opens his and takes a sip. He laughs a little. "When you say usual, I think you actually mean the opposite."_

_She takes a sip of hers and walks over to the waist-high ledge. "He's gone sewer-diving for the remnants of the past republic."_

_He almost sputters out his drink. He coughs. "Sewer-diving? Past republic?"_

_She laughs and shrugs. "He's gone and out for the weekend. I don't know where he is."_

_"So it's just the two of us?"_

_"Yep. It's just you and me."_

_He starts thinking of this as a date when it's not. "That sounds…nice?"_

_"Yeah, without Daichi's yapping and whining—some peace and quiet really is nice."_

_He repeats, "And it's just the two of us."_

_She cranes her neck to look at him with a cheeky grin on her face. "You aren't scared of me, aren't you? Afraid I'm gonna explode right in front of you?"_

_He walks over to the ledge and stands beside her. "Somewhat."_

_She takes a gulp of her soda and looks up. Heavy clouds are blocking the city sunset, she comments, "It's going to rain soon."_

_He doesn't think this, but agrees with her anyway. "We'd better get going then."_

_She sighs and leans her arms on the ledge. "Pity though. This place is really a sight for sore eyes."_

_He does the same. "Yeah."_

_She looks at him and smiles. "Let's stay here for a while. Forget about the rain and all that. Let's just stay here."_

_"Whatever you want."_

_And they stay, feeling a strange comfort in each other's silence. The clouds drift away, bringing the rain and the gloom with them. The sun is settling behind tall, glass buildings and gives the place a sad, nostalgic feeling to it. Yasumaru notes that she does look good in this kind of lighting and smiles to himself._

_She whispers after a while, "Thank you, Yasumaru."_

_"What for?"_

_She takes his hand in hers and intertwines their fingers together. "Making me feel like I can take on the world."_

_He tries not to flush, stutter, or look completely lost right now. He replies tentatively, "But you can, even without me or Daichi."_

_"Still." She presses her cheek to his and whispers, "It's nice to have someone that believes in you, makes you feel like you're not alone."_

_He wants to tell her that he loves her, but she presses her lips to his. He finds himself stuck in place, as if time allowed him to relish in the feeling, but she pulls away even before he could._

_In the evening he thinks of what might have happened if he pulled her close and kissed her until he himself went mad for air._

* * *

Yasumaru thinks to himself as he walks down the sidewalk, "Today, five years ago. She kissed me. I never got the chance to kiss her."

He kicks a lost pebble down the sidewalk. It was early in the afternoon and he finds it strange that people passing by this street were only few and far between.

He kicks the pebble one more time and it stops, bounces off a wooden door.

He says to himself when he places his hand on the doorknob, "You better know what you're getting into."

He inhales, exhales, and turns the knob. He walks right in and tries to ignore the smell of floor polish, alcohol, and cigarette smoke. He coughs inwardly. "Yes. I'm here to speak with the Red King, Suoh Mikoto."

The blonde-haired man standing behind the counter asks him in a cautious tone, "Who're you?"

He extends a hand towards him. "Naoki Yasumaru."

Izumo stares down at it, and decides to shake it anyway. "Welcome to Bar HOMURA." He removes his hand and asks him, "What's this about?"

"A certain renegade named Mayonaka Akari."

Izumo's eyes widen and he moves his hand cautiously to grab his cellphone from the counter.

"A moment, please." Izumo motions his phone in front of Yasumaru.

He nods. "Of course."

Izumo calls up Mikoto, "Someone's looking for you."

"Who is he?"

"Naoki Yasumaru."

"Haven't heard of him."

"Says he needs to talk to you."

"What about?"

"The drunkard."

"Your girlfriend."

"Mikoto."

"I'm on my way there."

He whispers this into the receiver. "Should I alert the others? This guy just screams suspicion."

"Whatever you want."

Mikoto drops the call and Izumo taps on fixed message and sends it to several HOMURA members.

Izumo turns back to Yasumaru, "He's coming. For the meantime, would you like anything to drink?"

Yasumaru raises a glass. "Vodka on the rocks, please."

Izumo starts thinking how he got that seeing as the glass cabinet is far from him, but brushes the thought aside.

Another thing though, the glass already had ice in it.

* * *

A/N: I don't know what happened. (Lol, feel the tension? Not really.) Read and review?


	21. jackrabbit parole

Cancerous

A/N: No reviews in the previous update. I should at least be worried, but still I persevere. Around three and a half hours of work on this...

Hey! I've got roughly two weeks before classes start, AND I'M IN COLLEGE TAKING UP LITERATURE. So there. I think I can get things going in fours hours of music and coffee, so except little to no changes to my updates. Goodluck to me.

* * *

_"I want out, Daichi."_

Those words still hurt him. It's been five years and he still can't get over the fact that she left.

"But you're here now, and there's no way you'd say no." He said to the unconscious woman slumped on the wall.

Daichi's blown up a part of the Quarantine Sector just to get her out of there. A structure-shattering quake elusive enough to be deemed as bomb exploding from the inside. He's made sure the illusion is flawless, and that there is no sight of SCEPTER4 the vicinity of MASANORI's territory proves it to him.

Akari is unconscious and yet there is a faint smile on her face. She'a making him waste his powers on purpose, isn't she?

Daichi rubs his hand over his face as walks over to her. He kicks her head slightly as to not break bone, and she startles awake.

She coughs out before realizing it's him. She smiles weakly, ironically. "It's nice to see you again."

He grits his teeth as he casual greeting. "Fuck you."

She sits herself up slowly, her body sore and her head feeling light. "You too. That's a pretty rough greeting for an old friend, Osamu."

He shouts and slaps her face. "Don't call me that! And we aren't friends."

She rubs her now painful cheek. She leans up and smiles. "Suit yourself. Enemies then?"

He remains silent, his anger seething from his teeth.

She laughs. "We are friends, Daichi. Why else would you break me out?"

She wasn't a thankful victim, and she isn't a willing ally. He suddenly regret why he "rescued" her in the first place.

He turns away, his face flush with anger and embarrassment. "Shut up."

"Why am I here?" She looks around and sees the symbol of MASANORI sprayed in neon green onto one of the gray concrete walls. There is dirt, grime, and various forms of graffiti are all over the place. Bullets casings, bomb residue, and grenade shells are littered across the floor. She knows that this is one of MASANORI's training rooms.

"I brought you here."

She laughs mirthlessly, smelling gunpowder in the air. "No shit. Really, why?"

He turns around and looks straight ahead, not at her. "I need your help." He muttered.

She doesn't hear it. "What?"

He exclaims this time, "I need your help!"

She smiles to herself and shrugs. "Never thought you'd actually say that. You know, after all that's happened."

He ignores her comment and leans down to her. "I heard you're out on the streets again."

She smirks. "And a little bird told me you're producing weapons."

His face pales. "You weren't supposed to know that."

She has already told Munakata that and is surprised that Daichi—or even Munakata—doesn't know that she "maintains contact" with MASANORI and PHOENIX by hacking into their systems and browsing through their files, phonecalls, text messages, and order forms.

She nods. "Apparently I do. Don't underestimate me, Daichi."

He strikes her head again. "You're a traitor."

She coughs and is forced to lie on her side on the dusty floor. She breathes slowly, feeling the sharp sting on her head.

"I'm working for SCEPTER4 and whoever's willing to strike a contract, what's wrong with that?" She said weakly.

"You're working with the enemy."

She rolls to her back and looks at Daichi, attempting a stern look on her face. "For. I don't tie myself to them."

She doesn't look stern and it looks to him that she's constipated. He chuckles. "Not from what I've heard."

She thinks it's her fault. "I forgot to put up my firewall again, huh?"

"Naoki." Yasumaru has been checking her files too. Of course, he's been trained by the best, by her.

She nods in faint memory of the young man's face. "So it seems. He's only the next best."

"I know. That's why I need your help." Daichi sounded more disappointed than proud of Yasumaru.

She rolls her side and sits up. She sighs, "You're thinking that I'd say yes, but it's a no, Daichi."

He looks at her in disbelief. "You haven't even heard what I was supposed to say."

"That's the point."

He stomps his foot on the ground and it creates a small crater. She is suddenly afraid of the fact that he can kill her with just a swift kick to her neck, but remains her composure.

He kneels down to her and their foreheads almost collide with each other. "This was your dream!"

She swallows a hard gulp and whispers, "Was. I just want to get myself outta Shizume City."

He hisses, "Then why don't you?"

She shrugs and leans farther from him, slumping her back against the wall. "Guess there are things I still have to do."

He stands up. "Like what?"

She bows her head and smile widely, "There's a bar downtown…"

"I know. Naoki's there, but he's not alone."

She is quick to feel the fear of Yasumaru and of PHOENIX waging a war with fire. She is afraid of the death of what might have been her dearest friend, most devoted lover, and all those souls he's pledged to hell with him.

He walks two steps away from her and lets the silence fall upon them.

Her thoughts then drift to liquor, bitterness, and a certain bartender. She lifts off the silence as she does with her head. She asks him, "So you're starting?"

"We're starting his plan. And in a few hours' time, we'll be starting with mine."

She thinks of a way to escape and smiles, glad that he has her back to her else he might slap her wicked face. "Where do I fit in the picture?"

"Hack into SCEPTER4's security mainframe. Disable the fences. Lock-up the weapon's vault."

She frowns and remembers Munakata as a lost boy forced into a crown. "Why them?"

"We're wiping out the Kings one at a time."

She shakes her head. "You're not strong enough."

He turns around and silently accuses her of being a traitor. "Who's side are you on, Akari?"

"The one that runs and hides."

* * *

Meanwhile, Yata and Usagi share each other's soreness with smiles and words as they're on their way back to HOMURA. "Usagi."

She rubs her arm and retorts, "What?"

He's known to swim in dangerous waters, so why not ask her, "What happened between you and Akari?"

Usagi shrugs and says this with a scowl on her face, "She needed saving and she needed help, but she didn't want any. She thinks she can be strong on her own."

He thinks of her as a reflection of himself and apologized out of line. "I'm sorry."

She thinks he's offering condolences and it sickens her. She states with a glare, "She's not dead."

"No, but it sounds like she's dying."

She can't tell him that she agrees, so they walk in silence before she stops and says, "We met in the rain. And if you think it sounds cliché, it was."

She tells him of that evening.

* * *

_She rubs her hands over her arms and breathes in the cold stormy air. "Cold. Cold. It's so cold."_

_She's been walking for a long distance and decides to take refuge in the small roof outside a coffee shop. _

_A figure walking by with an umbrella asks her with a gruff voice. "Hey, kid."_

_She lifts her head and sees a teenaged girl with dirt on her cheek and puffy eyes. "Yes?"_

_"Are you cold?"_

_She nods. "Yes."_

_The teenager smiles down at her and steps beside her. "I am too."_

_She unconsciously moves toward the shade of the umbrella. "Oh."_

_They ignore the passer-bys and the loud fall of the rain on the streets. _

_The teenager suddenly looks around before aaking her, "Are you alone? Where are your parents?"_

_She doesn't cry. "They're dead."_

_"Mine are too, but why are you out on the streets?"_

_She's surprised that someone's like her and decides to ask the same, thinking that they'd both be ones who were thrown out. "Why are you?"_

_"I locked myself out of the apartment." The teenager lied, but she doesn't know that. The teenager was actually thrown out too, out of the Yakuza._

_"I was thrown out."_

_The teenager pats her on the head. "That's sad. Wanna come home with me, when I get the receptionist to give me the spare key?" At least that was true; the teenager was living alone in one of the many apartments her family have. It was the apartment they lived in for the longest time._

_She feels the teenage draw her close and she pulls away. "I shouldn't be talking to strangers."_

_"And family shouldn't throw you out. So how about it?" The teenager holds out her hand._

_She takes it. "My name's Kagome Hikaru."_

_"Well from now on, you'll be called Usagi."_

_Later that night, she sleeps in a room beside the teenager's. In the morning, she learns that the teenager's name in Mayonaka Akari._

* * *

Yata thinks of it as a movie, a drama. "Why'd she change your name?"

Usagi shrugs and smiles in spite of herself. "I dunno. Guess she liked my bunny ears." She was wearing a bunny-eared headband that day.

"How old were you?"

"Eleven."

"That's harsh."

She elbows him with a smirk on her face. "What about you? How'd you get into HOMURA?"

He looks up and exhales, "It was something like fate, I guess."

"Bullshit." She slaps the back of his head.

He recoils and exclaims to her. "Ow! Fuck! What was that for?"

She looks disinterested. "Don't pull that shit on me. Tell."

He groans. "It was!"

* * *

_He throws down the console on his lap. "Dammit! I lost again!"_

_"Misaki, I really think that—"_

_"Bullshit!" He grabs his friend's soda bottle and starts chugging down its contents._

_His friend sighs. "That's unhealthy."_

_He exhales, feeling bloated. "What is?"_

_"We should be in class."_

_"Then you go, Saru, I don't want anything to do with this world anymore."_

_"I can't leave you like this."_

_"You can if you want to. You're my best friend and I don't want you to be pulled down by me."_

_"As long as it's with you, that's what friends are for, right?"_

_He scoffs. "Whatever."_

_He tosses the soda bottle away and it is caught by one of the most powerful men Yata has ever seen. Little did he know at that time that he'd be something like a friend, a father, a leader, and a King._

* * *

Usagi laughs. "So you're telling me that it was all by accident? That's absolute shit."

He resists the urge to punch her arrogant face. "It's not! But I guess you met her by accident too."

She punches his arm lightly. "By coincidence!"

"We both got into what we are by accident."

She presses her belief. "Coincidence. They just so happened to be passing by."

He nods. "Yeah."

"So what happened to that friend of yours?"

He doesn't hesitate to answer. "He's in SCEPTER4 now."

She audibly gasps. "Is he—"

He nods because he knows that she knows. "Unfortunately."

She inhales and realizes something like a mistake. "Oh fuck."

He shrugs. "He's a traitor, so it doesn't matter."

But it does, she exclaims, "Yes it does! SCEPTER4 or not, he's still your friend, you can't just shove him away like that!"

Yata scoffs and flips her off. "Tell that to the drunk bitch."

She's about to punch him in the face before a call surprises both of them. She recoils and Yata answers it. The look on his face turns from disinterest, to shock, to anger, and then to determination.

"What's that about?"

"Something about her."

Usagi knows who that could only be and turns her shoes into shakes with a press of a button, following him as he skates and shoves his way through the streets.

* * *

Akari has followed Daichi through the labyrinth of hallways and rooms. He stops inside a room filled with monitors showing various security feeds and videos, large file cabinets, and everything similar to what Akari had five years ago. He motions for her to sit on a swivel chair, so she does.

She sighs and leans back. "I don't have any other choice, right?"

He sits on one across hers, behind a desk. There is a mug of coffee on it and he picks it up, drinks silently, and puts it down. His drink was now lukewarm. He didn't expect coercing her to take so long, but she's here now.

"It's either you help me or you don't. We planned this without you and we can do it without you." He said.

She looks down. "I guess you don't need me after all."

"That is, if you want more people to die."

Her head shoots up in shock. "What?"

"We're only aiming for the Kings themselves, but if you don't do what I told you, then more people will die."

This isn't the ambitious Daichi she knew from long ago.

"What do you mean more people will die? Daichi, what happened?"

He sighs and takes another sip of his drink. When he puts it down, his eyes follow it. "I just realized that there's a heavy amount of sacrifice placed on those of us who want to change the world."

Her look of shock turns to a look of anger. He's forcing her this time and she has no other choice, unless she's given time alone so she can execute her escape.

She grits her teeth and balls her hands into fists. "Damn you, Daichi. Don't put people into this. They're not the ones to blame."

His face brightens and she thinks that she'd feel elated only if it wasn't for this reason. "So you're helping me?"

She nods. "As long as only the Kings die."

He feels like he could kiss her and thank her and apologize for hurting her and maybe even tell her how much he's genuinely missed her, but he doesn't. Instead, he gives her a smile. "I knew you'd come around."

It hurts her when he leaves because she knows that whether he dies or not, he'll end up being betrayed by her—again. But if she doesn't go through with her plan, she'll end up being the one who betrayed the promise she made to a boy who's only playing king.

"Damn you." She curses aloud and lets herself cry just a little. If only things were different then she wouldn't have to pick over green and blue, her dream and her future, purple and red, her savior and her liquor.

"Damn it." She loved her liquor.

She looks at her left hand now, there's the shiny band on her right finger. The ring the Munakata bought and left on purpose. She thinks that he's an enigma just as much as he's an asshole.

"Damn it all." Still, she can't say that doesn't feel affection for him.

* * *

In the bright of the midday sun streaming through the windows, a smile meets a scowl.

Yasumaru hides his nervousness under the guise of a smile. "Hello."

Mikoto stares at him. "Who're you?"

"Naoki Yasumaru, the Purple King of clan PHOENIX." He curses himself for saying this meekly and not proudly. What kind of King is he?

He nods. "Suoh Mikoto."

Yasumaru comments on the cozy atmosphere of the bar. "This place is really nice, quite relaxing actually. I think I'd spend my day-off here—"

Mikoto stops him by exhaling a large smoke. "So you said something about Mayonaka Akari?"

He coughs inwardly. Daichi never smoked, or drunk for that matter. "Yes, well. She's been captured by MASANORI, the Green clan."

"This isn't HOMURA's problem."

"I know, but it'll be soon enough."

"How?"

"If the Green King gets her on his side, she'll be willing enough to set any place to explode."

Izumo has stayed silent since Mikoto came in, but now he whispers to the King. "Like the rocket, Mikoto."

Mikoto knows that Akari's a coward. "She doesn't have the guts."

Yasumaru nods, shifting his gaze to Izumo with a proud, joking smirk. "That was a warning. She's fond of wasting bombs and missiles."

Izumo was surprised when Yasumaru said that, he was sure he said it low enough to be heard only by Mikoto.

Mikoto takes a drag. "So what does PHOENIX have to do with this?"

Yasumaru pauses and contemplates. He looks up at Mikoto. "I want to form a truce."

He shakes his head. "You won't have it."

He is taken aback by the man's straightforwardness and balls his hands into fists to control his emotions. "I'm not here to fight."

Mikoto steps down from his seat at the counter. "And you should know that you're not welcome here." He said clearly with a look of boredom on his face.

Yasumaru tries to call after him, "Mikoto—"

His only reply is a glare. "Don't call me that."

Yasumaru leans back, bows his head and feels a chill run across his arm. "If that's what you want. Then so be it—"

He strikes.

* * *

A/N: Dun, dun, duuuuun. My attempt at a suspenseful chapter turned out like that. Read and review? I think I'm disappointing you guys, am I?


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